Amending the Arrangement
by venusenvy626
Summary: After a business arrangement leads to marriage, Bella is shocked to find her husband wishes for her to give him an heir.  Will Bella consent in hopes that he will return the love she has for him or will she leave before her heart is beyond repair?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This is my first fanfic attempt :-) Please let me know if you love it or hate it (but gently, please!)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight.

**Chapter 1**

"Run that by me again?"

He looked up, his eyes betraying the slight annoyance at my inability to comprehend what the hell he was talking about.

"I want you to have a baby. With me. Together. You and me. A baby."

I cocked my head to the side and narrowed my eyes at him. "Edward, have you lost your mind?"

"No, I haven't lost my mind. I've actually thought this through quite extensively. You and I both turned thirty this year. I would love nothing more than to have an heir. I think a baby would be the perfect addition to our arrangement." Edward's sea-green eyes stared into mine for a moment longer before he stood up and started pacing the length of his study.

I sat in the brown leather chair that faced his mahogany desk, which was spotless as always. I was irritated with the direction this conversation had taken and my passive aggressive side longed to reach out and tip over his cup of #2 pencils or sneeze all over the shiny wooden desktop with my mouth uncovered. This idea he was proposing was completely asinine and outrageous for a man who was borderline OCD in his meticulous planning of every facet of his life.

I watched my husband as he paced. Our marriage of nearly three years was one of convenience – on his part anyway. As the founder and CEO of Cullen Technologies, he needed a trophy wife on his arm at business functions, during his many interactions with the press, and in his bed every night. As a poor girl from Forks, I needed stability, money, and someone with a plan. What our arrangement did not include was a love clause and I, much to my own dismay and against my better judgment, had grown to love this odd man. He was a man of few words, and many of those words he did manage to utter were emotionless and seemingly cold, but I knew he had a softer side – one he hid from the outside world. It showed up in the small thoughtful gifts I often found on my pillow at the end of the day. In the fact that he always seemed to anticipate my every want and need. In the way he always kissed my forehead before drifting off to sleep. In the way he loved his family members completely and without reserve. I knew he was a good man.

And I knew that he did not return my love – I was a convenience to him. I fulfilled the requirements carefully lined out in our pre-nup. I took care of his physical needs in the bedroom. And I was a complete and total idiot for doing these things knowing he could never feel for me what I feel for him.

Four years ago, while working at a small coffee shop in Seattle, Edward Cullen has waltzed into my life and irrevocably changed it, starting with his grande soy, sugar-free vanilla latte, extra hot with only a dollop of whipped cream. As he placed his pretentious order, his stare unnerved me and I felt my face beginning to heat under his gaze. When I handed him his drink, he muttered a soft "Thank You" and then slipped quietly out the door. He returned every weekday for over a month – never speaking to me, but always staring at me with those beautiful eyes of his.

On the fifth Tuesday of this routine, he struck up a conversation. Nothing major; certainly no special moment shared between two star-crossed lovers. He simply asked how my day was going. I mumbled an awkward "Fine" and returned to steaming the soy milk for his hoity-toity latte. The next day, he asked my name. Each day that followed he seemed to add a new line of questioning and eventually we became what I would call "casual acquaintances." I neither liked nor disliked him. Our relationship or whatever it could be called wasn't something I thought about regularly, it just _was._ I found out he had just turned 26 and was some kind of computer genius who was currently a wonder in the technology world with his own line of computer security software solutions. I was a clumsy, twenty-something with no career path, no college degree or financial means to ever get one, and I always felt uncomfortable in his presence, like I should keep my eyes down and call him "Sir" whenever he addressed me directly.

And then, six months into this bizarre daily interaction, the game changed. Edward walked through the door at his usual early afternoon time and waltzed right up to me with determination and fire in his eyes as I stood behind the counter.

"Bella, I would like to speak with you about something. Can we meet for dinner tonight?" he said, his green eyes blazing. He seemed so composed, but his hand running nervously through his wild bronze hair betrayed him.

"Excuse me? What? Dinner?" I stammered like a mental patient. He was a customer. His world and mine did not intermingle. He wore suits and paid for his four dollar coffee with a black Amex. I sported jeans, a messy brown ponytail, and couldn't even balance my checkbook correctly. Why on earth would this man want to have dinner with me? Did he expect sex? Was I some project or social experiment for him?

"I have a proposal for you…a business arrangement, so to speak. Can we meet somewhere and discuss it in private? I realize this is somewhat unexpected, but all I ask is to take you out to dinner and to have your undivided attention while I explain."

I stared at him with my brow furrowed, chewing crazily at my bottom lip. "OK." At least I would get a free meal out of the deal.

My agreement seemed to catch him off guard, as if he had prepared a full on debate presentation and wasn't sure what to do now that it wasn't necessary.

"Alright. What time do you get off of work? I can pick you up here if you'd like or you can meet me at the restaurant if that would make you feel more comfortable." He smiled at me. A gentle smile that showed none of his ridiculously white teeth.

A short exchange ended with our agreeing to meet at a local diner, which was typically quiet in the evenings and a good spot to have a serious discussion. When I walked through the door, I saw him fidgeting at a booth in the back corner and quickly joined him, curious as to what this conversation would entail. After a short and formal greeting, he began the speech that would change my life forever.

"Bella, I feel like a bit of a creep presenting this proposal to you, but please know that I have thought this through completely and I am not here on a whim or rash decision. I think that you and I could help each other. You are beautiful, smart, kind, and I find myself very drawn to you. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I am in a predicament and I have something completely random and crazy to ask of you."

"Which is?" I said, still reeling from the fact that he had called me beautiful.

"Marry me."

I gasped. Did he just ask me to marry him? Why? What the hell is going on?

He immediately looked nervous – probably from the look of pure shock no doubt plastered on my face.

"Hear me out. I need to find a companion for both professional and personal reasons. I am in a position where being single is just no longer acceptable, but I haven't the time or frankly the desire to seek out a long-term relationship. I always fear that women are simply out to get their hands on my money. I trust you. I am in awe of you every time we speak. I also know that you are struggling financially. I could support you and also pay for your college tuition if you'd like to pursue an education. In return, I would ask for your companionship, your attendance at some events and such, and in public to act as though we love each other."

I took a deep breath. I had to admit, given my current economic situation, it sounded appealing, but I needed some time to think about it. We left the restaurant with the agreement to discuss the proposal further the following morning.

Through various meetings and discussions, we ultimately came to an agreement. We would marry within four months, we would pretend to be a real couple outside of the home, he would support me and allow me use of his checking account whenever I wanted, and we would reevaluate the terms of the agreement annually to make sure we were both still happy with the situation. I was happy to not have to worry about money and to finally pursue the degree I so desperately wanted. But I'll be honest…I felt like a whore. I genuinely liked Edward – he seemed like a good person. But I was scared to death of getting myself into something I couldn't handle. Or worse – ending up with a broken heart.

Edward and I spent the next four months nearly inseparable. We learned more about each other, I met his family, he met mine, and I began to feel much more comfortable about what I had agreed to. Our wedding was truly beautiful and I cried real tears when I said my vows. Edward looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman on the planet and I couldn't help but wonder if it was real or if he was just playing his part. Our honeymoon in the south of France was spent in a two bedroom cottage, each of us retiring to our separate quarters at the end of each day. Time passed and I was really very happy. I enjoyed spending time with Edward. He was smart and kind, a true gentleman. He bought me presents. He kissed my cheek every morning. He enjoyed my cooking. We were like any other married couple. Except for that damned pre-nup that spelled out what we could never be.

About a year into the marriage, we attended a charity ball for the local Children's Hospital. After indulging in way too many glasses of champagne, the limo dropped us off at his mansion, both drunk and giddy. He gazed at me with a look of lust I had never seen before in his eyes. I took in a shaky breath from the weight of the moment. When our lips met, it was like a fire was lit that neither of us had any desire to extinguish. We made love that night, all frantic and intense and sweaty and just pure bliss. I slept in his arms for the first time.

The awkwardness that I expected when daylight hit never seemed to materialize. We went about our lives as if nothing had changed. But nearly every night since that day found us in each others arms, taking pleasure from one another and giving back as equally as we received. I moved into the master suite. In that room, he gazed at me as if I were his entire world, as if I held the meaning to life. He played my body like an instrument. He knew every sensitive spot of my skin, just as well as I knew his. When morning came, we went our separate ways – no words of love were whispered, no touches or more than chaste kisses were shared.

As time went on, I began to feel uneasy. It took time, but I eventually worked out what my head was trying to tell me – I was his whore. I had sex with him in exchange for being a "kept" woman. And somewhere along the way I fell in love with him. I loved everything about him. I just wished he could feel the same.

When Edward asked me to meet him in his study, I certainly never imagined he would ask for a child. My brain went into overdrive and once the shock dissipated, anger soon set in its place.

"Edward, I cannot and will not have a baby with you. I refuse to bring a child into this world simply to enhance an "arrangement". I can't believe you would even ask. I may exist here purely to keep your public happy and to keep your bed warm, but I do have some shred of dignity left. I am not your breeder." I spat the words at him vehemently. I had loved this man for years. I had given him my heart, soul, and body and had gotten nothing in return but a paycheck. He was emotionally unavailable and clearly lacked any tact whatsoever. I choked back a sob. This was it. I couldn't be this woman anymore. I needed to get out before the damage to my poor heart was too much to ever recover from.

I looked up at him and wiped desperately at the tears that had pooled in my eyes. He was clearly caught off guard by my outburst. His beautiful face looked completely heartbreaking – his eyes held shock and regret.

"Bella, I – "

"No. I don't want to hear it." I glanced down at my hands which were shaking in my lap. When I looked up at him again, I realized this was the moment. I needed to take some action. "Edward, I can't do this anymore. I'm not some plaything. I..I…need to go. I need some time to think."

And with that I fled the room, not knowing where my steps would lead.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you all for reading and for the wonderful reviews! I must admit, I had hoped to have one or two readers, but was blown away by the number of you who have put this story on alert or favorite. I apologize in advance for any typos – I did not seek out a Beta for this story, so I take all responsibility for any errors you may find.

On to the next chapter…I would love some reviews to let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or its characters.

**Chapter 2**

As soon as the study door closed, I immediately began to panic. What do I do? Where do I go? For the past four years, I had let this poor excuse for a marriage define me – it was honestly the only thing I'd ever done that had brought be any real level of joy and contentment. I am not a gold digger. I mean, sure I'd agreed to this arrangement particularly for the financial perks, but in reality the money was the not the reason I had stayed. Even though he had never given any quantifiable evidence that he felt for me more than a casual companion, loving him had been effortless and real. And it made me _happy. _I don't know how unrequited love could bring such happiness, but I'd venture to guess it was the _hope _that I took such pleasure in. For the first time in my life, I dared hope and dream of the possibilities of something more. Something better. Something _good. _

I quickly walked down the hallway to the master suite. I needed to leave this place. I needed to be away from the Cullen estate and from him. I needed to be on neutral ground if I was to think this through logically and decide the best course of action. And, honestly, I needed to make these critical decisions based purely on reason and reality – hope and possibility could no longer drive my actions. I had spent far too longs with my head in the clouds, pretending I was in some romantic comedy film nearing the climax where the hero claims his love and devotion to the girl next door. No, I needed to face the reality that Edward was not going to ride in on a white horse.

As I began gathering some clothes and toiletries in my suitcase, my thoughts drifted over the events of the past few years. Edward was capable of affection – he had shown this time and again in the bedroom. His caresses and sweet words during our physical connections proved to me that, whether or not they were the product of some genuine emotion or that of a male acting the part of smooth operator, he at least understood how romance and love _should _work.

It was the daytime Edward that had confused and broke my heart time and time again. He certainly never mistreated me – Edward was always a gentleman and was faithfully mindful to treat me with the utmost respect. However, his carefully crafted mask of emotional void seemed to follow him everywhere. In public, he would touch me and talk to me in such as way to keep up the façade of two people deeply in love, sharing a life together. In private, the most I would receive was inconsequential small talk and only the necessary physical contact, such as a hand to help me out of the car.

And I just accepted it.

How could such a man want to bring a child into the world? Even if I did agree, would he love our child? Would he be able to actually _tell_ our child he loves them? Or would a baby truly only be an addition to this fucked up arrangement? No, I can't bring a child into the world like this. A child should not only receive love from its parents, but should also see their parents love one another. And at this point, that wouldn't happen. No, a baby was out of the question.

As I zipped my suitcase, I felt the disgust set in. I should have kicked my own ass years ago. How could I possibly look at myself in the mirror? How had I been able to sleep knowing what I had done? What kind of shameless whore allows a man to treat her this way? He may have never spoke to me in a disrespectful manner, but every action proved that he did not respect me. How could I have been so blind? How could I love a man that would use a woman in such a way?

But I had signed up for this. Willingly. Consensually.

How the hell did I get here? I was once a young woman who, although not blessed with extreme beauty or endless money and resources, had at least survived. I hadn't needed the love of a man to feel whole – I was Bella and I was proud of it. Now, here I was, packing a suitcase and running from a lifestyle that I had never wanted or needed, from a man who would never want or need from me what I so desperately wanted from him.

With one last glance around, I grabbed my suitcase. This was it – the moment, the action, the path I needed to start on.

Peeking out into the hallway, I was relieved to find it empty. Sure, part of me wanted Edward to find me and drop to his knees, begging me to please stay and give him forever.

However, the realistic part of me knew that Edward would never do such a thing. And seeing him NOT do this would break me – I would certainly give in and crumble to the sobs that I had been holding back. No, I would much rather leave undetected. And while it may be cowardly not to at least say goodbye or tell Edward where I was going, I couldn't find it in me to care. I wanted him to worry. I wanted him to have to try to find me if he wanted to talk to me or see me.

Quickly making my way to the garage, I loaded my suitcase into the trunk of my car and drove away. Looking in my rearview mirror, I allowed myself one last glimpse of the Cullen mansion. I wondered when I would be back and on what terms. Would I still be Edward's devoted wife the next time I set foot on that stone walkway? Or would I merely be a memory he was trying to forget?

By the time I'd checked into the Cascade Suite at the Fairmont Olympic hotel and unpacked my things, I am emotionally and physically exhausted. After a hot bath, I stumbled into the bed and fall into a restless sleep, haunted by dreams of Edward and beautiful, green-eyed children.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Three days.

I've been in my hotel suite for three fucking days. I've shopped. I've eaten an abundance of room service. I've read books. I've watched countless hours of Lifetime movies.

Not a single word from Edward.

Is he giving me time and space? Is he afraid to talk to me? Is he worried about me? Is he thinking about me at all?

Surely a man with his resources could easily find me. I paid for this suite using our joint account. There is no way he doesn't know I am here. I have my cell phone. No calls or voicemails.

This is what I'd feared. He doesn't care. If he did, certainly he would have at least called to make sure I was alright.

Right?

My throat and head ache from the uncontrollable sobs that take over nearly every hour.

I haven't slept well and the dark circles under my eyes and pasty look of my already pale face haunt me whenever my gaze lands on one of the many mirrors in my room. I stop looking it. I close my eyes whenever I enter the bathroom – I can't bear to look at myself right now.

Neither Alice or Rose have called. My two closest friends haven't even checked in. I don't call them either. They believed the lie, often times musing out loud how they were envious of the relationship Edward and I have. Lies. Everything is a lie.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Six days.

Still no word.

I am in a sea of regret. I am so lonely. I should have just stayed. I've always been lonely and isolated. But at least before I had those nights. His touches. His whispers.

A soft knock at the door breaks me out of my self-destructive thoughts.

Wiping my tears, I make my way over, cautiously opening the door.

Edward.

He stands in the hallway, looking as beautiful as ever. In a gray suit with a red tie, he looks as though he's ready to take on the world. I stare, unable to form any words. When my eyes land on his face, I realize this is not the type of reconciliation I've been hoping for.

He looks well-rested, perfectly groomed, and he has his emotionless daytime face on. He looks _normal. _His eyes meet mine and briefly flicker with something, gone as fast as it came.

Didn't he miss me? A sob escapes me.

How _dare _he! How can he not be suffering as I am? Has he no decency? He hasn't been the least bit worried? Sad? Angry? _Anything_?

Suddenly, the regret is replaced by the same flare of anger I felt when I left. No. I won't do this. I don't want to know what he has to say.

I realize how unfair it is to be angry with him for not returning the feelings I have for him, particularly when I have never declared my love.

But try as I might, I have no rational thought left. I do the only thing I can.

I slam the door in his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for the positive responses so far! I'm sorry I haven't replied to all of the reviews – real life was a pain this week.

So, on to Chapter 3….hang in there, I promise the angst will be over soon….

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or its characters.

**Chapter 3**

I stare at the door, completely shocked that I could do something so callous and crazy.

I've always prided myself on rising above and beyond the stereotypes of a typical, emotionally-charged girl.

But here I am. Acting like a seventeen year old girl who just saw her prom date dancing with someone else.

What do I do now? I've given my life to this man – my heart and soul. I would have given him forever. _Everything._

Do I open the door? Will he even still be standing there? What do I want to say? What do I want _him _to say? Do I even want to hear it?

God, this is so passive-aggressive. How can I hold him responsible here? I signed that fucking agreement. I knew what I was getting into. I cannot hold him responsible for _my _emotions. When did I let my hormones overrule my logic?

A tentative knock breaks me from my internal struggle. I gasp. Oh, God. Why isn't there an easy answer here?

Another knock.

My hand flies to cover my mouth and I take a step backward. I'm not ready to deal with this. I think it is safe to say I'm going to choose avoidance over confrontation at this point. It's not like I'll never see him again if I don't open this stupid door. We would at least have to see one another at the divorce proceedings. But surely he wouldn't give up just like that.

Would he?

Another knock.

I suddenly feel like I might hyperventilate. I look wildly around the room, but I know there is no escaping this. I race to the adjoining bedroom and slam the door.

Another knock.

I cover my ears with my hands and sink to the floor, letting the sobs take over again. I don't want to hear the knocking. I don't want to know he's out there. Maybe he should head back to his fucking mansion and get another good fucking night's sleep while I sit her like an emotional time bomb waiting for my doom.

Knock. Knock.

Still breathing erratically, I clamber to the bed, pulling the plush covers over my head. Sure, I'm acting like a four year old in a thunderstorm, but I just can't handle this. I'm too fragile. Another sob escapes. What do I do now?

I focus on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I can do this. I need to calm down. I need to breathe. I realize I'm rocking back and forth, trying to soothe myself.

In. Out. In. Out.

After a few minutes, I realize the knocking has ceased. I peek out from the covers, straining my ears to hear something. Anything.

I tentatively crawl off of the bed, tip-toeing over to the suite door. I peek through the peephole.

And I see nothing.

He left.

I'm shocked. Could he really give up that easily? I realize as this thought enters my head that I sound like one of the annoying bitches I hate in romantic comedies. Whiny and stupid. God, he just can't win, can he? I want him to leave and then I'm angry and hurt when he does.

What _do _I want?

I want him to love me, that's what.

A ridiculous, crazy-sounding laugh escapes me. If I really want him to love me, shouldn't I have wanted to talk to him? I know the answer to this question – if I talked to him, I'd have to live with his answers. His answers have the capacity to completely break me.

Sitting in this room for six days has taken its toll on my head. I'm talking to myself, I'm laughing at myself, and I'm crying more than any person should cry.

Fuck.

Two trips to the mini-bar later, I decide it's time for a plan. I glance at the clock and realize it's already getting late. I'm going to go to bed. Tomorrow morning is when I will deal with this once and for all. I'll go to him and I _will _tell him how I feel.

My time in limbo is over – I need to know how he feels.

~~~~ATA~~~~

I must be dreaming. I can't seem to pry my eyes open, but I'm vaguely aware of reality. Am I awake?

I feel something warm behind me, close to me, almost hugging me. It feels like someone is stroking my hair. It feels so nice, so comforting. I sigh contentedly. I don't want this dream to end. It feels like ages ago that I felt this safe.

"I love you, Edward" I mumble through the haze that is crowding my brain. If I'm dreaming of him, at least dream-Edward will know the truth.

If this is a dream, I'm not ready to wake up. I drift off again, snuggling further into the warmth I feel tightening around me.

~~~~ATA~~~~

I'm slowly regaining consciousness. It's warm. Almost too warm.

I blink my eyes open and am shocked to find the room still bathed in darkness. I squint up at the clock on the bedside stand. It is only just past six in the morning. I can see the beginnings of the sunrise through the sheer curtains on the window.

I yawn and stretch only to find that something is holding me to the bed.

I immediately panic. What the hell is going on? Looking down, I see an arm thrown over my midsection. I turn my head to see who is with me and gasp when I see that familiar head of copper hair.

Edward.

He's here with me. A vague memory makes itself known. I remember feeling his hands last night.

When and how did he get here?

Closer inspection shows he is still deeply asleep, his eyes twitching ever so slightly. I wonder if he is dreaming of me. No, I won't dare to hope that.

But he is here. He came back. He's holding me. He was comforting me. That has to be a good sign, right?

I feel my chest tighten and my eyes begin to water. I feel his arm, heavy just beneath my breasts. Oh, I so want to believe he came to me and held me because he loves me. I want to believe there is a happy ending here somewhere. I know there has to be some conversations, but I want this forever. I want to wake in his arms every morning and _know _that my place is by his side because of love, not because of some stupid piece of paper telling me that it is.

It takes a moment, but I am able to push the tears back. This may be my last morning to feel this, so I'm going to make the most of it. I don't want to waste time in his arms crying like the little brat that I've been for the past week.

I snuggle back down and close my eyes, determined to memorize the feeling of being pressed up against his warm body.

It's heaven.

Soon I feel sleep take over again and I surrender to the peace.

~~~~ATA~~~~

When I wake again, the room is sunny and bright. There are no arms holding me. I'm cold and alone in this big bed again.

I squeeze my eyes shut and press the heels of my hands over my eyelids.

Did he leave? I feel my breathing pick up again. Was I just dreaming it? Have I gone mad?

"Bella?" a soft, husky whisper breaks me out of my panic attack. It startles me. My hands move to cross over my heart and my eyes fly open in search of his honey voice.

He's still here.

Sitting in the plush armchair in the corner of the bedroom, in his now wrinkled white dress shirt and slacks, he looks as beautiful as ever.

Our eyes meet – brown against green. A breath escapes me that I hadn't been aware I was holding.

"Edward?" It comes out a strangled sound. I try to keep breathing – try to focus on his beautiful eyes and read his face.

It's guarded and emotionless. What does this mean?

Suddenly everything changes. His careful mask crumbles and face is one of sheer emotion, tortured and sad. He stands quickly and makes his way over to the bed, crawling over to where I still lay in the middle in a tangle of blankets.

I can barely blink before I feel his arms around me, pulling me into his lap. I feel his breath in my hair.

"Oh, Bella, I've missed you so much." His voice is breathy, like he's been running a marathon.

It takes a second for me to process this. How can he say he missed me? It took _six _days for him to miss me?

He pulls back and his hands gently push the hair from my face. I realize I must look ridiculous. I've been crying and tossing and turning, I'm sure my hair looks like a rat's nest and my face is swollen and red from tears and stress.

"Let's go home," he says.

"No." I'm not ready to go home just yet. We need to figure this out before I set one foot back in his world.

He looks shocked and hurt, like he can't believe I've told him no.

His eyes narrow. "No?"

I take a deep breath and brace myself for this.

"Edward, we need to talk first." I can't seem to meet his eyes as I say this. Another deep breath and I raise my gaze to meet his. His face shows that he is weary. Maybe he isn't quite ready for this either.

"Edward, I've fallen in love with you." A tear slides down my cheek as I say this. I feel my face burning and can only imagine how red my cheeks must be. There, I've said it. The words I've been holding back for years. They have finally made their way to the surface.

I can't look at him. The seconds tick by and he hasn't responded.

The waiting becomes too much and I finally look up. What is he thinking? Why isn't he responding?

When I look at his face, I realize these are not the words he wanted to hear. His face looks shocked. Can he really not have known? I know I never actually told him how I feel, but surely I've shown him. I've been nothing but a doting wife since the day we said our vows.

"Edward, please say something," I whisper, pleading with him. Oh, God, please don't break my heart.

He pulls away and moves back to the armchair, slowly, and I can tell he's contemplating what his next words should be.

"Bella, I…." he trails off, unable to finish the thought. I feel like the world has stopped. I can't breathe. He takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye.

"You were right, we need to talk."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: As always, I can't begin to tell you have appreciative I am to all of you who are following this story! Thank you for the great reviews! Sorry for the cliffies, but I hope the quick update makes up for it a little bit. So….does Edward love her? Let's find out!

**P.S.** If you are looking for something a little lighter, check out my new one-shot, "A Bloody Good Day" for a little laugh!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Twilight or its characters.

**Chapter 4**

Moments of silence pass. The quiet is killing me slowly.

I look down at him, now sitting in the armchair, his elbows on his knees, his head cradled in his hands. Oh, God. Surely if he felt the same way about me, he would have just come out and said it, right? This can't be good.

He looks up suddenly and stands determinedly as if he has reached some important decision. He reaches his hand out to me. I look at it in confusion, not sure what he is asking me to do.

"Come with me. Let's order some breakfast and then we will talk, I promise. You look like you haven't eaten in days." He looks calm again. I can handle this – at least we have a plan. I am determined not to let him leave this suite until I have the answers I need. He clearly doesn't feel the same as me, but he hasn't run screaming from the room yet, which I am choosing to take as a good sign.

I tentatively reach out and place my hand in his much larger one. With a sharp tug, he pulls me to my knees so that I am kneeling on the bed as he stands at the foot. He pulls my arm so that my hand is at his back. Letting go, he wraps me in his arms and warmth and I melt into him. We stay trapped in each other's embrace for a few quiet moments before I feel him take a deep breath.

He pulls back and we are face to face once again.

"I'll order something to eat. Why don't you have a shower while we wait?" I simply nod in response and clamber off the bed to head to the bathroom.

"Bella?" His voice sounds quiet and husky again. I turn to him and wait for whatever it is he wants to say. "You look beautiful. I really have missed you."

My cheeks flush at his declaration and a small smile tugs at my lips. I choose not to respond, instead rushing to the bathroom.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Freshly showered and dressed in a light cotton blue and white summer dress, I am trying to gather the courage to rejoin him in the main area of the suite. My tear stained cheeks are freshly pink once again and the swelling of my eyes has reduced considerably. I have chosen not to spend too much time with my morning routine, my hair is wet and wavy around my shoulders, air-drying. Frankly, my shaking hands didn't seem to have the strength to handle a blow-dryer, so a tousled look is as good as it's going to get today.

Finally resolving my nerve, I open the door and peek through a small crack. I don't see or hear him, but I can't imagine he would have left me like this.

I cautiously step out and make my way the main area, where my senses are filled with the smell of bacon and maple. I realize I am famished and my stomach lets out a very unlady-like growl.

Looking around I finally spot him standing at one of the large windows taking in the morning cityscape. It really is a lovely view – under better circumstances, I would have taken great pleasure in sitting at that window, staring out at the Seattle skyline, daydreaming of happier times. But now is not the time for daydreaming. I am fully aware that the next few hours have the power to make my dreams come true or crush me into a blithering pile of despair.

"Edward?"

He turns around, seemingly startled out of his very own daydream. Was it a happy one? Was he imagining a future with me? Or was he dreading how to break it to me gently? He has removed his wrinkled dress shirt, now wearing only his white undershirt and those black slacks. He is barefoot and I can't help but stare in wonder at how a man can be dressed so casually, but look like he has stepped right out of the pages of a men's fashion magazine.

He smiles gently at me, which I meet with my own shy grin.

"Let's eat." He steps towards me and grabs my hand, pulling me over to the small table and chairs, where covered dishes hold our meal.

No other words are spoken as we both help ourselves to French toast, bacon, and fruit. Overwhelmed by how hungry I am, I don't seem to notice the silence instead choosing to concentrate on the delicious food. I savor each bite, focusing on the flavors and textures on my tongue.

I chance a look at him only to find those green eyes penetrating me, a small smile of amusement on his lips.

"I love you."

I sit frozen, my fork halfway to my mouth, a piece of French toast dripping with syrup waiting.

This time it was not me who said it.

He loves me.

My eyes widen and I stare at him in shock. His look of surprise matches mine, as if he can't believe he has just said that.

What the hell does that mean? Is he going to qualify his out of the blue statement with a "just kidding – ha ha"?

"What do you mean?" I ask. I need him to clarify a little bit here. His words and actions the past 24 hours have certainly not matched the body language and signals I'm receiving.

"Bella, I love you." He says it again. I feel like my heart might explode.

"I've loved you for a long time." His face looks weary again. "But there are some things I need you to understand." He takes a deep breath. I put my fork down. The French toast will have to wait.

For all his OCD-ness and inability to show emotions, I am surprised to see how nervous he is. His hands are grasping at the cloth napkin, which if it were paper would have been torn to shreds by now. His breathing is somewhat erratic and his eyes are looking everywhere but into mine. I have never seen him look so tense, so _human._

"Bella, I've never been in a relationship before. I've had flings here and there, but I've never developed any sort of emotional attachment with a woman. Our arrangement was the perfect answer for me. That's why I pursued you the way I did. I fear I took advantage of you. I knew there was a possibility of you getting hurt. I knew you could develop feelings. I tried so hard to stay away from you physically. I just…God…you were just so beautiful that night of the Children's Hospital ball. And the wine made you finally relax and open up to me. And I just _took advantage _of that. You should hate me right now, Bella. How can you say you love me when all I've done is manipulate you?"

He suddenly stands, angry and on fire. He paces in front of me like a lion, and for a few brief seconds I'm afraid. I don't understand what he's saying and I wisely keep quiet. He needs to finish his story before I can comment. Right now I'm confused and not sure where this anger is coming from.

He stops abruptly.

"Bella, I _knew _you would love me. I _knew _I had no intention of falling for you. I just let it happen. You were so kind and trusting. Every night I took you in my bed, knowing that I was treating you like a whore, knowing what kind of emotional affect that must have had, but I _kept _doing it. I couldn't get enough, but honestly, Bella…."

He pauses and looks at me.

"I've never had any intention of changing our arrangement. It works for me. This is what I wanted and I want to keep it that way. I can't be a good husband to you. I don't even know if I am capable of loving someone the way you deserve to be loved."

And just like that, I feel like a knife has plunged into my heart. I can barely whisper my reply.

"But you said you loved me. Were you lying?" I am willing myself to hold back the tears that I know are soon to escape. He said _he loves me._ That he has for a long time.

"No, I wasn't lying." His voice is a raspy, choking sound.

"Then what are you saying, Edward? Why are you giving me these mixed messages? For years, I've been there for you. I've _loved _you. I know you haven't been the most emotionally available man, but I know I didn't imagine the affection I've felt from you. What does all of this mean?" By the end of my rant I am practically shouting. My breathing has increased and my body is shaking. I will him with my thoughts just to spit it out. There's no reason to beat around the bush anymore.

His face is angst-ridden and pale.

"Bella, I do love you. I don't think I truly realized that until last night. Even when you left, I was certain you would come back. But then you just never did. I finally came to you and seeing you so distraught and then laying by you last night …I just….I can't imagine my life without you now."

He buries his face in his hands and his shoulders begin to shake. I can't help but want to comfort him. I rush to stand in front of him and, not sure if my embrace would be welcome, I hesitate before I reach out.

He suddenly looks up and in a move that causes my tears to flow freely, he takes a step back.

"Bella, there is a reason I am the way I am. I learned a long time ago that if I wanted to be successful, I'd have to learn to shut my emotions off. There is a reason I am a successful business man. I know I have no friends. I know I've been cold to you outside of our bedroom. It is the only way I know how to be."

"I don't believe that, Edward. I know you are capable of more. What about your family? You are a different person around them. What about all of the times you've surprised me with something for no reason. I know you like to see me happy. I know you care. I….I….know you're scared to accept the fact that falling in love means having to let go of some of your control, but don't you trust me? Don't you know me by now that I would never betray that or take advantage of it?" I take a step toward him. I can't let him continue to run from this.

He takes a deep breath. A tear slides down his cheek. I have never seen him cry. I'm not sure he actually ever has cried. He looks so vulnerable. So _young._

" Bella, I do love you. I do. And I'll try. That's the most I can promise. I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to be an ass. I don't know how to love someone." His hands reach out and cradle my face. I gasp and my heart begins to pound. "I don't want to hurt you."

My lips inch closer to his. "Then don't." It's all I can think to say.

And then our lips meet, soft and chaste, slowly moving against one another, building and building to something more.

He said he would try.

He loves me.

I don't stop to ponder whether or not I can accept that he has basically set us up for failure with his promise of broken promises. I don't stop to think about his request that I produce an heir – we'll deal with that later.

Right now I just want to kiss him. I want to escape in him. I want to forget about the years of walking a tightrope of emotion. I just want to _be._

The need for oxygen eventually forces us apart, but our connection never ceases. His forehead rests against mine.

His thumbs move back and forth in a soothing pattern across my cheekbones, and with a gentle whisper, he murmurs, "Let's go home."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I am just blown away by the responses to this story! Thank you all so much for following and sticking with it. I apologize in advance – this chapter is a bit angsty, but I am already working on the next chapter and a resolution is coming soon!

I never thought I'd be one of those writer's who begs for reviews, but I have to admit, I sure do like them! I'd love to know what you think. This story has taken a different turn that I originally expected – I hope you guys are still with me.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or its characters.

**Chapter 5**

"_Let's go home."_

Three words. Do they make it all better? I don't think so. Do they help? Absolutely.

But that kiss. And those confessions. He _loves _me.

If this were a movie, what song would be playing in the background right now? Celine Dion crooning out "Because You Loved Me" or Patty Smyth's "Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough."

I have no idea. So, what next? I look up at his face. He's waiting for me to take some action. To decide the next move.

Let's go home.

"Ok," I say with a smile. There's my answer to him. I expect a smile. I expect relief. And maybe, oh I don't know, a hug. Some excitement.

What I don't expect is that he is back to business. He pulls away, his hands drop from my cheeks. His face gives nothing away again. Which Edward is real? He is either incredibly stupid or a brilliant fucking actor.

He clears his throat.

"Would you like some help packing?" he asks. His voice is calm. Void of anything, really.

Is that it? We just shared a _moment_ – a declaration of _love._ What the fuck? Did it not mean anything? I know he has admitted to being emotionally-retarded, but I thought we made a major breakthrough here in the past few minutes. I thought we dissolved our arrangement. But apparently, we just changed the terms up a bit.

Am I ok with that? No. I'm really fucking not.

So, what now?

"Um, no. I'll be fine. I need to settle up the bill, pack, and do a few things before I can leave." I clear my throat. I can't look him in the eye right now. I've done two complete 180's in the past two hours – I've gone from not knowing how he felt, to hearing what I thought was a heartfelt confession, back to being out of the fucking loop.

I chew on my bottom lip for a second, contemplating my next move. Jesus, it's like we're playing chess or something. It feels like he wants me to believe I am in checkmate, but I know better. He wants me to think he holds all the cards here.

"Ok, that's fine. I can wait." He isn't giving me the out I'm looking for. I want him to leave ahead of me. Give me some time to gather my thoughts and prepare. Because this isn't over. We still have some kinks to work out.

"No, you go on ahead. I'll meet you at home in a couple of hours."

He cocks his head to the side and looks at me inquisitively. "Why? I really don't mind waiting."

"Edward, what have you been doing the past six days?" It's out of my mouth before I can stop myself. I fight the urge to slap my hand over my mouth and apologize. We are always told to follow our first instinct – my survival instincts obviously wanted an answer to this.

His eyes narrow – I can't tell what emotion they hide – is it anger? Curiosity? Indifference?

He opens his mouth as if to answer, but after a beat he closes it again. One hand reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Annoyance – that's what it is.

I stand frozen. Do I take it back? Tell him "never mind – it isn't important?"

His hand returns to his side, sliding into the pocket of his slacks. "Bella, are you accusing me of something?" Now he looks angry.

_What the fuck?_ Now I'm suspicious – I haven't accused him of anything. Does he have something to hide?

"No." I answer calmly. "I just want to know what the last six days have been like for you. Why did it take you so long to come find me? I haven't slept all week. You look fine. I just….I expected something a little different. You say you missed me, but quite frankly your actions and appearance don't exactly support your words."

He rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh.

I step toward him again.

"Edward, I'm not accusing you of anything. You say you love me. That you missed me. You fucking _cried._ But not two seconds later, you are back to talking to me with the same level of emotion you talk to your employees with. I need to know where I stand. When we get home, what am I walking into? Are things going to really change? Or does our normal routine just end with an 'I love you' at the end of the night." I pause to catch my breath. "Edward, what am I to you?" I can barely breathe as I end my speech. My question-filled rant.

Oh, he's angry now. His face is red. His chest is heaving. If I didn't know him well enough to know that he would never act out in violence toward a woman, I would fear for my safety. I instantly regret my little speech. I should have waited. We _did _make a breakthrough and now I've pushed it too far. I'm expecting too much from him too fast.

"You want to know what you are to me? You're my _wife._ You signed the papers. You agreed. Yes, I have feelings for you, but cut me some fucking slack here," he hisses. With an exasperated sigh and a shake of his head, he turns to look me in the eye. "I'm going home, Bella. I expect you home within a couple of hours."

And with that he walks out of the suite, leaving me alone yet again. The sound of the door slamming causes me to jump in shock.

~~~~ATA~~~~

I'm stunned. I'm frozen. What should I have done? Granted, I didn't ask him in the most graceful manner. Sure, I sounded like a petulant teenager, _again._

But I think I have a right to know what the hell is going on between us.

I have packed my things. My suitcase is waiting by the door. I have called the front desk and taken care of the final charges.

I have one more hour to checkout time.

And then what? Do I go home? Do I pretend that this never happened? Do I confront him again, risking his anger?

I wish I had a fucking guardian angel to help me through this. What I need is a friend. I need someone to talk to who isn't Edward; who isn't involved.

Rose.

I'll call Rose. Rosalie Hale, one of my closest friends, is always good for a blunt, honest opinion. Sure, she thinks that Edward and I have a _real _relationship, but I'm done hiding. I need her. I need to tell her the truth.

Rosalie McCarty and I met when I was working at the coffee shop. A regular customer, Rose and her husband, Emmett, own a local auto body and repair shop, which happened to be on the same block as the coffee house. We chatted regularly during her visits and soon became good friends. Although a car and sports-loving tomboy at heart, Rose is one of the most beautiful women I have ever known. We had somehow managed to remain friends all these years, even through the drastic changes in my life.

I pick up my cell phone and dial her, praying that she picks up.

"Bella?" her familiar voice calms me instantly.

"Hey, Rose. Are you home?"

"I'm at the shop. Is everything ok?"

"No, I need to talk to you. Can I come there?"

"How about I meet you at my house? We're slow. Emmett won't mind if I cut out of here."

I smile, thankful that at least one person is still there for me. I take a deep breath of relief.

"Ok, I'll meet you there."

~~~~ATA~~~~

Twenty minutes later, I am parked at the curb in front of Rose and Emmett's place. Their modest home, a small ranch-style, was such a welcome site. I've beat her here, but I have no doubt she should show up any minute.

I hear my phone buzzing and I dig through my purse, hoping it isn't Rose cancelling on me.

When I finally find it, the lit screen blinks Edward's name. Glancing at the clock, I realize it's been at least three hours since I last saw him. Since he _left _and demanding me to go home. After a brief internal debate, I decide to ignore it. He's already mad, I might as well make him worry a little bit.

Rose finally pulls up in her red convertible. I rush out of my car and meet her as she parks in her driveway.

Her face holds a concerned smile. "Hey, Bells!" she says as she hugs me in welcome. Pulling back, she stares at my face for a moment too long. "What's wrong?" she asks quietly.

Her concern momentarily overwhelms me. A tear slips from the corner of my eye as I reply, "Everything. Everything is wrong."

~~~~ATA~~~~

Thirty minutes later and half a pitcher of spiked lemonade later, I have spilled my guts to her. I've left no part out. Her face is frozen in shock and a full minute of silence has passed since I've finished my dramatic story worthy of a screenplay.

I've accomplished something I don't think I ever have before – I've left Rose speechless.

She finally breaks the silence.

"How on earth could you have agreed to something like this?" she asks. And I honestly don't know the answer, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"I think I just wanted a change. I've always been boring and plain. I've always been on a dead end path. It was exciting and new. I had a chance to be somebody else. You know, a chance to see if the grass is greener."

"Do you believe he loves you?"

"I think he does, but I think he wants to love me on his terms. I think he wants to keep the arrangement as is. I think he wants me to settle for that." I can't stop biting at my lower lip. I hate having to admit this out loud. I feel so _dirty_ having to explain that I've basically married and slept with the man for money.

"You can't go back there, Bella. If you guys truly love each other, you need to rip up that agreement. If he's not willing to do that, then there isn't a future there. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but love doesn't come with terms and conditions."

I take a deep breath and cradle my head in my hands. She's right. I know she's right. I need to leave. I need to end this. This is definitely a "Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough" situation.

I love him, but I need to love myself more.

I stand up and with a hug from Rose and a promise to call soon, I head out to my car.

I am going home, but not for the reasons I originally planned for this morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** So here's the next chapter! Thank you to all of you who are sticking with this story – your reviews and feedback mean so much to me :-) So we finally get to meet Emmett in this chapter…let's see what happens, shall we?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or its characters.

**Chapter 6**

As I start my car, I realize my hands are shaking. I don't really want to leave him – I want him to _want _me to stay. But if I stay as things are, I just don't see how I'll ever be able to take this relationship to the level I want, where we love each other fully, without reservation.

Nearly ten minutes after I leave Rose's house, I realize I am driving aimlessly. I've long since passed the turnoff that will lead me in the direction of home. Taking in a deep breath to calm myself, I pull into the nearest parking lot of a strip mall. As I ease into a parking space at the edge of the lot, I switch the gear to park and let the car idle. I rest my head on the steering wheel, focusing on my breathing. This had seemed like such a good idea when I was at Rose's house, but now that I am out in the open and on my own, my insecurities and general non-confrontational approach to life are rearing their heads full force.

My cell phone ringing startled me out of my internal panic attack.

I reach over to the passenger seat and grab it, confused at seeing Rose's name on the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bells!" a deep male voice answered me.

"Emmett? Hey, what's going on? Is Rose ok?"

"So, I just walked in the door and heard an entertaining story from Rosie. Is it true? Really, what were you thinking, Bells? I always knew there was something a little off about Eddie, but man, I'd never have thought you two were up to this crap." His voice sounds teasing. Leave it Emmett to find humor in the downward spiral I have found myself in.

I sigh and can't keep the irritation out of my reply. "Yes, Emmett, it is true and I know I'm an idiot. You don't need to tell me – your wife already cleared that up earlier."

"Settle down there, Pretty Woman. No need to get all huffy." He lets out a chuckle and I can feel my cheeks flame at his insinuation. "I'm calling because I want to give you some advice."

"_Don't listen to him, Bella!" _I hear Rose calling out in the background.

"Now, I agree with Rose that if you guys love each other, you need to get rid of that ridiculous pre-nup. But I think you might be going about it the wrong way."

I am intrigued – surely it can't hurt to get a guy's opinion on this, right?

"How so?" I ask.

"Well, let me ask you this. If you leave, are you prepared for the fact that it may really be over for good? I hate to say this, and I know I don't know him all that well, but from what I've been able to see, Edward is an emotionally-retarded, computer geek who thinks in business terms. He doesn't think like a normal person. Even if he does love you and wants you to stay, he'll never chase you if you go. If you leave, honestly I think he'll be relieved. And it's nothing against you. I just think he may be one of those people that would choose to be unhappy versus having to let their walls down. I don't want you to end up broken-hearted, kiddo, and I honestly think if you leave, you won't get the reaction you want. As much as I know you want him to, he isn't going to beg you to stay. And, let's face it; if you leave and regret it, you are going to beg _him _to take _you _back, which just puts you back in the same position of being at his mercy."

I silently process his words. Fuck. I hate to admit it, but I think he has a very valid point.

"I see what you're saying, Emmett, but it's like a lose-lose situation. If I stay, it has to be on his terms. If I leave, it's over. Either way I'm the one who gets hurt."

"I don't think so, Bells. I think you need to stay and turn the tables. Force his hand so you can lay down your own terms."

I roll my eyes. I honestly don't think anyone has ever forced Edward to do anything.

"So what are you saying? I don't see any way to do that. Edward is the most stubborn man on the planet."

He chuckles again. "But he's a stubborn man who loves you. The problem is that he's too much of an idiot and too socially-awkward to know _how _to love, right?"

"Yes, but –"

"But nothing. Here's what I think you should do. You need to go home and go about your business like the last week never happened. I would bet money that right now, he's sitting at home dreading having another heart to heart with you. You need to walk in that fucking door and just pretend like everything is normal. It will confuse the shit out of him. He's an over-thinker – he'll start over processing every little thing you say and do and he'll get all paranoid. The next thing you know, he'll be the one coming to you."

"Um…" I'm not quite sure how to respond to this. "Won't he just think everything is fine and feel all triumphant that he got out of having to commit to anything or talk about it?"

"Maybe at first. But I promise you, he's expecting something to change. If it doesn't, it's going to go against his expectations and it will through him off. That dude will probably pull something trying to figure out what the hell is going on."

I just sit and process this information. Could Emmett be right?

"Oh, and Bella? One more thing. Don't fuck him. Don't let him touch you until he gets his head out of his ass. Stick to your contract – don't do anything you aren't obligated to do. He needs to know he doesn't get to have you for nothing in return. And if he forces himself on you or goes apeshit about it, you call me and I'll take care of him." His light tone has taken a darker sound – he means business with this. I am touched and it almost chokes me up. It feels good to know that there are some people who genuinely care about me.

"Thank you, Emmett," I say softly. It really does mean a lot to me that he cares enough to help me through this.

"No problem, Bells. Go home and let us know how it goes, ok?"

"Ok. I love you guys. Thank you for everything."

"We love you too kiddo." And with that, he hangs up.

I think Emmett's right.

I have a new plan.

As I look up, moving to put my car back in drive, I see a little Italian restaurant Edward and I have ordered takeout from occasionally. I hadn't even realized where I was until just now. I smile to myself as I turn the car off, stepping out and heading to order some pasta.

~~~~ATA~~~~

I walk up to our front door, armed with a large order of spaghetti and meatballs, a large order of chicken alfredo, and some garlic bread. Step one in my plan is to feed Edward. This is normal, right? I can do this. I've decided to leave my bags in the car for the time being. If step one doesn't go well, at least I can make a quick retreat.

The house is quiet when I step in. I know Edward must be home – I saw his car in the garage as I was parking.

After setting my feast down in the kitchen, I quietly make my way through the house. I finally find Edward in his study, sitting at his desk, leaning on his elbows with his head in his hands. I knock on the open door to announce my presence.

His head snaps up and he narrows his eyes at me.

"Where have you been? Why aren't you answering your phone?" he snaps at me, his anger and frustration clear on his face.

My knee-jerk reaction is to cower back and start apologizing, but that will not help my cause.

I smile sweetly at him, smoothing down the front of my summer dress nervously.

"Rose called when I was on my way home. She was worried since she hadn't heard from me in a week and I ended up stopping at her house. We got to talking and lost track of time. I had left my cell phone in the car, so I didn't know you called."

He opens his mouth to say something, which I'm sure is not going to be pleasant, so I cut him off before he can start ranting.

"Are you hungry? I brought some Italian food from Santeramo's if you'd like to join me for lunch."

He stares at me, his eyes guarded. I can tell now that Emmett was right. He expected me to start crying and talking about my feelings again. Oh, Edward, you are in for a surprise.

"No, thank you, I have some work I need to finish," he says quietly, pausing to look up at me, cocking his head to one side, his eyes watching me to gauge my reaction.

"Alright." And with that, I turn and head back to the kitchen.

I can do this. I can pretend everything is ok. It isn't as if I haven't had enough practice over the past few years.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Several hours later, I have eaten more than my share of the Italian food and have unpacked my suitcase. I've decided that I will follow Emmett's advice to the letter – no retreat for me. I need to stick this out.

I haven't heard Edward moving around or seen him since our brief reunion in his study. I wonder if he has eaten, but I refuse to go searching for him or to check on him. No, my contract says nothing about looking after his well-being.

It is nearly 7:00 in the evening, much too early to sleep, but too late to start doing anything of significance. I pause and look around our bedroom. It is so large and so sterile. Although I live here, I've never really put my stamp on anything. It looks like _Edward's _room – there is nothing in here that even hints to the fact that I exist, save for the rows of expensive clothes hanging in the large walk-in. Even those don't look like me. I used to love lounging in jeans and t-shirts. Now even my "comfortable" clothes are too formal for the real Bella.

When did I lose myself? Why did I ever think that this lifestyle would fit me? I guess I've answered my "Is the grass greener?" question. No, I don't think it is. Although it certainly wasn't very green on the poor side of the fence, either. I sigh as this thought permeates me. I need to get my head away from this dark train of thought. No, it doesn't matter what might have been. This _is _my life. I've made my bed, now I must lie in it.

My mind briefly wanders back to my first year philosophy course at the university. Our professor had presented a scenario during a lecture early in the semester: If a man and woman have been happily married for thirty years, but unbeknownst to the wife, the husband is a sadistic serial rapist and killer, was the wife ever really happy if she didn't have the whole truth and parts of their marriage were based on lies?

Could I have just been happy with the way things were, pretending and hoping that Edward might one day love me? Knowing that Edward loves me, but doesn't have the emotional capacity to love me the way I want, the way I _deserve_, certainly hasn't made me any happier. Would I have been better off had I remained oblivious to this? At least before, I had hopes and fantasies to keep me going.

I blow out a breath. Damn it. If I'm going to stick to the plan and pretend that everything is fine, I need to quit dwelling on it. I close my eyes and try to channel my mind to focus back on a week prior – what would I have been doing while Edward worked late?

I decide a bubble bath might be nice. Yes, that's what I need. I need to relax. I need to be calm. When, if, Edward comes to bed, I may be faced with another challenge. God, I hope I am asleep before he retires for the evening.

I head towards the bathroom, a book of matches in hand and some soft cotton pajamas on my arm. Nothing lacy and frilly for me tonight.

As I soak in the bubbles, surrounded by the flickering light of the candles I have lit, I start to drift off to sleep. The emotional stress of the week is still wearing on me. Oh, it does feel good to be home. While I have no idea what the future holds for my marriage, at the very least this is till my comfort zone. Although it appears I've made very little lasting impression on it, it is my home.

Forcing my eyes to stay open, I reluctantly step out of the warm water and towel off.

Once I am dried and changed, my hair in a messy bun on top of my head, I head out of the bathroom, blowing out candles as I go.

I leave the bedroom, padding down the hall quietly. The light glows underneath Edward's study door. He must have shut it at some point, which explains why I haven't heard a sound from him all afternoon.

I knock on the door lightly. A soft "Come in" drifts through the door and I open it hesitantly, but not all the way. I peek around the door and meet Edward's green eyes. He looks tired and worn. I will never understand how that man can work so much and not have a nervous breakdown. A memory of our morning together hits me – he had said he has no friends. His business is his life. I can't help but feel sorry for him in this moment, that although he has more than most people could ever dream of having, his life behind the money is quite depressing.

How could he not want more? How could he not snatch up friendships and _love _when they are offered to him? Is he happy with what he has become?

I clear my throat quietly. I came here for a reason and I need to get on with it. "I'm going to bed. I just wanted to say goodnight."

He hesitates before answering.

"Bella, are you alright? Do you want to talk?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm actually really tired. I'd like to just go to bed."

His brow furrows briefly before he replies softly, "Alright. Good night."

I simply nod and close the door on my way out, avoiding his eyes.

I return to our bedroom and climb into bed, snuggling beneath the soft and cool covers, almost instantly drifting off into a dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** As always, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews and for continuing to read! I sincerely apologize for not being able to reply to more reviews – real life has been ridiculously busy this last few weeks. So, onto the next phase of the plan…let's see what Bella is up to today, shall we?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or its characters.

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**Chapter 7**

When I wake, the room is bathed in sunlight. I struggle to open my eyes, blinking to rid them of the grogginess I feel. Glancing at the clock, I realize it is past nine, much later that I normally wake up. I look to Edward's side of the bed, the sheets and comforter are messed, hinting that he had to have come to bed at some point, but he is nowhere to be found.

I struggle to recall what day it is. The past week has wreaked havoc on my internal clock. Glancing at my cell phone on the stand beside my bed, I find that it is Monday. Edward must have gone to work. I wonder if he has left a note.

Pushing myself to my feet, I stretch my arms above my head, thrilled at the sensation. It has been a while since my last full night of good sleep. I survey the room and am disappointed to see nothing, no note or trinket from Edward.

With a sigh, I begin my morning routine, choosing to dress much more casually than usual in a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt.

When I finally make my way to the kitchen, I find that the coffee in the pot is cold. Edward must have left hours ago. I still glance around with hope, but still find no note. I try not to analyze this; he has never been one to leave notes indicating his whereabouts. However, I am usually up early and see him off to work, so there has really never been a need.

Perhaps he's still angry at me. Perhaps he's confused at my odd behavior yesterday when I arrived home. Perhaps it means nothing and he just didn't think of leaving a note.

God, I've turned into such a drama queen. I've made it this far in our marriage without analyzing his every word and action – why start now? If I'm to act normal and go on as if we never had the last week of uncertainty, I need to stop this craziness.

With a huff, I go on with my day as normal.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Edward is avoiding me.

It hurts.

This was not part of the plan.

It is Thursday morning now. It is our fourth day of silence, which has only occasionally been interrupted by small talk of no consequence.

"_How was your day?" _

"_Would you like some more green beans?" _

"_I have some work to do. I'll be in my study."_

"_Have a good day."_

"_Thank you for dinner, it was delicious."_

"_I'll be late again tonight, don't wait up."_

"_Did you sleep well?"_

"_The coffee is ready. Would you like a cup?"_

I am going mad. He is the same Edward, but he is colder. More severe and serious. We have always limited most conversation to small talk, but this is different. There is no warmth or even a hint at affection here. This morning he barely even said a quick and mumbled goodbye before rushing out the door.

He hasn't tried to touch me once this week. Not just for sex, but any physical contact at all. No hug. No accidental brush of the hand. Nothing.

By Wednesday, I had broken down and called Emmett and Rose for some advice. Emmett had casually dismissed my concerns, saying that this is Edward's method for dealing with something out of his control. Emmett suggested that perhaps Edward is trying to push me to make the first move – to be the first to bring up the gigantic, pink, contractually-obligated elephant in the room.

I cannot give up. I will not break down and approach him.

The plan stays.

My cell phone ringing startles me out of my thoughts and I smile as I see Rose's name light up my screen. I quickly flip it open, excited for a chance to talk to her. The silence has been deafening and lonely.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bells! Any better today?" her voice sounds so caring. I really am lucky to have such wonderful friends.

"Nope. Same as yesterday," I respond with a sigh that sounds defeated even to my own ears.

"Cheer up, sweetie – I promise it will get better. But no moping right now. I called for a reason." Her voice has changed to one of excitement.

"And what would that be?" I ask with a smile.

"Well, you and I are going out tomorrow. I have scored two invites to that new club opening up downtown. It's called Jax. You know that one with the lion statues out front? We're in, baby girl!" Throughout her speech, her voice has risen and her enthusiasm is contagious. I can't help but giggle in reply.

"That actually sounds like a lot of fun. I can't even remember the last time we went out." My smile has grown, yes – this is what I need, a good distraction.

"I know! It's been way too long. So, here's the plan. I've talked Emmett into holding down the shop today, so we are going to spend the day preparing. We need to look like two hot bitches when we show up tomorrow night. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes, ok?" And like the whirlwind she can sometimes be, she has ended the call before I can even voice my answer.

For the first time in days, I feel happy. I'm excited to get out of the house. Something is clearly not right when one phone call and a day of shopping turn into the highlight of my month.

Perhaps I should think about finding a job of some kind or volunteering my time somewhere. Edward has always insisted that I stay at home, preferring that my schedule is open should I need to attend a function with him. But the rules have changed now. I need to do something with my life – someplace where I can be Bella. Someplace where I am not just labeled as Edward's wife.

I must explore this more tomorrow, but for now I settle for gathering my things to go out. I will enjoy my day with Rose. And I refuse to talk about Edward today or tomorrow night. I need to have some fun, and surely any conversation revolving around him and our fucked-up non-relationship or whatever we are calling it will spoil the mood.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Three hours later, I am buffed, polished, waxed, and thoroughly plucked. Our visit to the spa was, aside from the pain, very relaxing. We giggled over champagne and chocolate covered strawberries, talking about anything and everything that not having to do with Edward.

It was pure bliss.

I usually hate shopping and hate going to clubs even more, but right now I am very much looking forward to tomorrow. And although I am determined not to let thoughts of Edward infiltrate my good time, I am fixated on finding the perfect outfit for tomorrow. I want him to drool. I pray that tomorrow he doesn't work late so that he can see me off as I leave. I want that image burned into his brain.

I won't lie – I'm also hoping he's in bed when I get home tomorrow night. I hope he tries to touch me, I really do, because although I love him and want nothing more to make love to him again, I am looking forward to turning him down for once. Does that make me a bitch? Maybe. But for all the times he's welcomed me for physical pleasure, he has turned me down emotionally. And that hurts just as bad. I want to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Rose finds a decent parking spot near Westlake Center and we trek towards the classy boutiques in search of _the _dress. I don't have to voice my thoughts on making Edward drool – I'm sure Rose is thinking the same thing, because every dress she holds up for my "yay" or "nay" is sinfully short and tight.

I don't do short and tight. But this one time, I'm willing to make an exception. I didn't get my legs and lady bits waxed for nothing.

In a cute little boutique called Cache, we find it. The perfect dress.

It is a deep blue, strapless, chiffon dress. The bust is gathered in tight, yet soft chiffon billowing, with sequins embellishing the waist. The front is short, resting a few inches above knees, but the chiffon layers fall lower in the back, emphasizing my legs, breasts, and shoulders in the perfect way. As the soft material flows around me, I can't decide if I feel like a princess or a seductress – either of which I am happy with. A pair of strappy silver heels, a new black strapless bra with matching lace panties, and some silver chandelier earrings complete the look. I feel giddy with excitement as I look over my choices.

After much debate, Rose has finally decided on a floral print, ruffle dress in a beautiful mix of blues, greens, and purples. Although Rose's typical going-out look is limited to tight black or red dresses, this dress is simply breathtaking on her. The ruffles and uneven hem are ridiculously short on her tall frame and long shapely legs, but it the length works for her – she can pull anything off. The colors, ranging from bright to pastel pop against her tan skin. She looks like a goddess.

We're finally ready for our night out. Suddenly, my excitement overwhelms me and tomorrow night can't come soon enough.

With a kiss on the cheek, Rose drops me off at home. I have asked that meet me at Edward's at 7:00 tomorrow night, and from there we will take a cab to dinner and then to the club. Again, I say a silent prayer that Edward will be home by then.

I peek at my cell phone on the way to the door, struggling to handle the weight of my purchases on my one free arm. No missed calls. No texts or messages. I have a moment of panic when I realize that it is nearly five o'clock. I quickly decide that dinner tonight will have to be ordered out. Although Edward occasionally has a personal chef on staff, I prefer to cook myself. With little else to fill my time, cooking is the one thing I feel I can contribute and also enjoy. But tonight Chinese food will have to do.

At 6:00, the Chinese food is laid out on our dining room table and I am pacing nervously in the kitchen, wondering what the mood between Edward and I will be like this evening.

By 8:00, my question is answered. The Chinese food lays untouched on the table, save for the egg roll and wonton soup that I have eaten, and Edward has yet to arrive. I clean up the leftovers and place them in the refrigerator, leaving a note for Edward so he will know where it is.

I want to cry, but refuse to. I decide to head upstairs to get ready for bed. My mind starts to play devil's advocate, leading me down paths of thoughts of him out to dinner with another woman, of him sitting at his office wondering when I will be asleep and it will be safe for him to return, or, worst of all, thoughts of him sitting at his office, engrossed in work without a thought or care towards the time or if I am at home waiting for him. Yes, the thought of him not caring at all is certainly the worst of what my mind can imagine.

By 10:00, I am lying in bed, my eyes closed, but sleep will not come willingly.

I quietly suck in a breath when I hear the bedroom door open. I refuse to allow my eyes to open or my body to move, certain that pretending to sleep will be easier than dealing with the emotional backlash of our forced and awkward conversations. I hear the shuffling of bare feet against the carpet, the bathroom faucet turn on and off, and a few other noises I can't make out before I finally feel the bed dip and the covers slip slightly lower against my shoulders as he crawls into bed beside me.

I hear him sigh. My overactive brain immediately begins to analyze it. Was it a sad sigh? Was it a I'm-so-glad-to-be-in-bed-after-a-long-day sigh? Damn it, I wish I could read his mind. This would all be so much easier. Surely, by the time we ever get this sorted out, I will have an ulcer, a head full of grey hair, and possibly a few nervous ticks from the sheer stress and panic I keep putting myself through.

Suddenly, yet slowly, I feel his arm tentatively reach out and circle my waist. I struggle to keep my breathing even as my entire body ignites in electric tingles. Oh, it has been so long since I felt his touch. It is almost too much to bear.

He moves closer, aligning and wrapping his body against mine. He exhales into my hair, his warm breath leaving a hot path against my neck. I feel him relax and within minutes I hear his breathing even out in sleep.

I, however, am an emotional mess, reveling in the feel of his body against mine – the heat, the firm feel of his naked torso, the strong feel of his knees pressed into the backs of mine. It feels like heaven.

I bask in the warmth for several minutes, wanting to savor every second of it, before I finally drift off into a pleasant sleep, with dreams of Edward and I in a lover's embrace.

~~~~ATA~~~~

I awake late again the next morning. Looking around, I realize that I have yet again slept through Edward leaving for work. The thought makes me feel sad – I had really wanted to see his face when I mentioned my plans for the evening, but now I will have to settle for a phone call, where I will only be able to gauge his reaction on the tone of his voice and the words of his reply.

It is after 1:00 in the afternoon when I finally work up the courage to call him, my hands shaking as I dial his cell phone number.

"Bella?" his answer sounds slightly worried, which I'm sure has to do with the fact that I have not called in weeks, and even then it was only ever for something important.

"Hello." I clear my throat, nervous. Which is completely ridiculous. A wife shouldn't be nervous to call her husband. What the fuck have we become? "Um, I just wanted you to know that Rose has invited me to a girl's night out. I'll be leaving around 7 or so, so you'll be on your own for dinner if that's alright."

"Oh." He pauses for a beat too long before he continues. "That's fine. I'm sure I can find some leftovers or something to eat." Another long pause. Before I can figure out how to break the silence, he continues. "Um, where are you going?"

"Rose was invited to a new club opening, Jax I think it's called. We are going to have dinner and then head to the club."

"Is Emmett coming along?"

I chuckle at that. "Um, no. It would sort of defeat the purpose of a girl's night out."

Another pause. Fuck, why is this so awkward? Will we ever be able to talk again without these ridiculous silences?

"Well, please be careful. Make sure your cell is charged in case you have any trouble."

My heart drops. If he's telling me this now, that must mean he doesn't intend to see me before I leave. I suddenly feel very defeated. My chest feels heavy and I feel my hands start to shake again.

"I will. Will I see you before I leave?" I cringe as I say this, I certainly don't want to sound too needy or have him start guessing what my intentions are.

"I'm not sure. I wasn't planning to work late, but I'm not sure what time I'll actually get out of here for the day." His voice is hard to read – his tone even and controlled.

"Ok, well if I don't see you, have a good night. I'm not sure what time I'll be home."

"Alright. Have a good time." Pause. "Bella, please be careful and call if you need anything."

"I will. Goodbye, Edward."

"Goodbye."

And that's it. I take a deep breath as I flip my phone closed.

Time to get ready – even though he may not see me, I have a fuckhot dress waiting for me upstairs and I'll be damned if I don't make every effort to look my best tonight.

~~~~ATA~~~~

At 6:45, I am putting the finishing touches on my make-up. I have kept it light and natural, with barely there blush, lip gloss, and mascara. My hair is resting against my shoulder in soft waves, tousled to perfection.

As I'm strapping on my heels, I hear the front door closing. I gasp in excitement.

He's here! I feel my cheeks start to heat up and I fan my face to cool them down. Blushing is cute and all, but I certainly don't want to appear red-faced and childish when I see him. I'm going for sexy and classy – not teenage prom.

I make my way down the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. Damn it, Bella! Calm down. I need to get a fucking grip – the plan is to appear calm and controlled and right now I am failing miserably.

When I enter our front sitting room, his back is to me as he empties his pockets onto the small table near the room's entrance.

"Hello," I say softly. "How was your day? You're home early."

He turns around and the look on his face when he sees me is one that I will never forget. Sure, he's seen me dressed up on many occasions, but never has he seen me in such a dress, preparing to go out without being on his arm. His mouth pops open slightly and for a brief second, his eyes widen as he sucks in an audible breath. I contain the small smile that curves my lips up. Seeing him looking at me in what appears to be shock is exhilarating.

I am certainly not keeping score, but if I were, this would certainly be a point for Bella.

He clears his throat as he regains his composure.

"You look beautiful," he says as he looks away, breaking our eye contact.

"Thank you," I smile again as I say it.

The sound of our doorbell breaks the moment. I turn and walk through the entryway to answer it.

Pulling the door open, I stand there in shock at what I see.

"Oh my God, Rose, you look amazing!" She really does. The dress is perfect. Her hair is wavy around her face and her make-up, usually much more pronounced, is natural like mine. I suddenly feel slightly embarrassed that I will have to stand next to her all night – she is incredible.

"Hello, Rose. It's good to see you." Edward's voice so close behind me startles me. I hadn't heard him approach.

Rose smiles a devious smile before replying. "Hello, Edward." She leans forward to hug me before stepping back, her hands still resting on my shoulders as she looks me over.

"Fuck, Bella, you look incredible. I should have brought Emmett along to act as your bodyguard tonight." I grin at her, pleased that she would hint at such a thing.

Another point for Bella. Not that we're counting.

I turn around and decide to throw caution to the wind. I stretch up to kiss Edward's cheek before giving him a quick hug. He looks surprised, but quickly returns the embrace.

"I'll see you later," I say, grasping my small purse and turning back to Rose.

"Have a nice time. Please be safe," he says quietly before taking one last head to toe look.

I turn and we begin our walk out to the cab that is waiting in the drive. As I turn to shut the door, I get one last look at Edward. His face looks slightly worried, his brow furrowed.

Rose puts her arm around my shoulder as we approach the cab.

"Oh, Bella, tonight is going to be priceless," she says.

I couldn't agree more.

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**A/N:** So, up next, girl's night! What trouble will Rose and Bella get into? By the way, links to Bella and Rose's dresses are on my profile – make sure to take a peek. Also, I just published a new one-shot titled "The Good Girl" – it's a quick and happy read – I'd love to know what you think!

I look forward to hearing your reviews on this chapter :-) Thank you for continuing to read! I hope you are still enjoying it!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **So, girl's night it is! Buckle up; it's going to get a little crazy! Pardon our little Bella – she doesn't hold her liquor too well :-) As always, thank you for all of the support and reviews! I'm so glad you all are continuing to enjoy this story!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or its characters.

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Our cab ride is filled with laughter and the air is buzzing with excitement.

While pausing at a stoplight, I take advantage of a brief lull in conversation to peer out the window at the cityscape around us. The lights are twinkling, the sidewalks filled with people out enjoying a beautiful summer evening. I wonder where they are headed. Are they happy? Are they stressed? Are they living out their dreams? Are they broke and angry?

I turn back to gaze at my friend, a smile still on her lips, her eyes closed and her head tilted toward her open window, enjoying the cool wind on her face. She's happy and content in her life. Sure, she has problems like anyone else – nobody truly has a perfect life. But she's happy. She's a successful business owner. She's happily married to a man who would rather cut off his own arm than ever see any harm or unhappiness come to her. These thoughts should make me jealous, but they don't. I feel nothing but pure joy at knowing my dear friend has the life she once dreamed of.

I am forever thankful to Rose and Emmett and their unending love and support. Coming from a broken and emotionally-challenged family, I never truly understood that there are people like Rose and Emmett out in the real world. People with good hearts. People who, if one should be lucky enough, invite those they care about into their lives and love them unconditionally.

Edward doesn't have that. One time, I would have thought that he did get that from me. Now, I'm not so sure. The past two weeks have taught me a great deal about the inner-workings of our relationship. I thought my love for him was unconditional. It seems though, that he is edging closer and closer to finding that one condition that could be a deal breaker for me.

I shake my head, mentally cursing myself for even thinking such a thing. No, we don't always choose the people we love. And sometimes love isn't good for us. But it's there, unconditionally, nonetheless. Yes, I do love him. And I will stick with this.

Although it seems as though I've been stuck inside my head for hours, I realize it has only been a few short moments.

As Rose and I fall back into easy laughter and conversation, I do my best to push all unhappy thoughts to the corner of my mind. Rose is my happy place – as much as I would love to just feed off of her joy, I can't do that. I know from experience that being on the receiving end of a "joy-stealer" is just plain not fun. Nope, I won't do that to my Rose.

I need to find my own joy.

Starting now.

~~~~ATA~~~~

The cab ride is long, stopping frequently to accommodate the Seattle weekend traffic.

Instead of frustrating, the traffic and bustle around us only intensifies my excitement for our evening.

Dinner is lovely and calm, both of us choosing a lighter course than usual so as not to weigh us down or keep us from dancing, but heavy enough to prepare us for the copious amounts of alcohol we will no doubt be consuming later on.

By the time we reach to club, my nerves are beginning to set in. I know I am young, but still I feel ancient as I glance around at the crowd that has formed a long line behind the velvet ropes in front of the building. Most of them are young. Really young. And beautiful. Really fucking beautiful.

I take a deep breath as I step out of the cab and onto the sidewalk. I square my shoulders and force myself not to stare at the ground as we approach. No fucking way am I going to settle into my default inferior Bella-mode tonight. I look beautiful. I _am _beautiful. I may not be a supermodel, but I don't need to be nearly six feet tall and a size zero to feel good about myself. Nope, my curves are just fine and my legs are just long enough thank you very much. Just _right._

Looking over at Rose, I can't help but smile. She is, of course, oblivious to any of this. If there is one thing Rose isn't, it's self-conscious. Nor should she be.

Her eyes meet mine and she smiles back at me. She winks at me, something which I have just never mastered – whenever I try, I end up looking like I've just eaten a lemon. But when Rose does it, I swear she could bring a grown man to his knees in awe.

She leans closer and says in my ear, "I have a surprise for you!"

Confused, I look over at her. "I thought the club invite was the surprise."

She grins deviously and cocks an eyebrow. "There's one more big surprise to help bring you out of your little depression bubble. Something I thought you might need."

Grabbing my hand, she marches right past the crowd up to a large gentleman in a black suit guarding the door. As she begins to tell him that we are on the invite list for the evening, I hear my name being shouted out from somewhere off in the distance.

I turn around, straining my neck to see above the crowd to spy someone who might know me. Or maybe there's another Bella here.

Suddenly, a pair of arms assaults me in a tight hug that almost knocks the wind out of me. Too shocked to react, I stand there like a moron for a few seconds before I realize what's happening.

"Alice?" Oh, how I've missed her! My beautiful friend, short, pale, black spiky hair, and dressed in a skin hugging red mini-dress, stands before me, grinning from ear to ear. I throw my arms around her and finally return the hug.

"Told you I had a surprise!" Rose appears behind me and pulls Alice from me before enveloping her in her own arms.

Once they part, Alice looks at me, her face calm, but empathetic. "Oh, Bella, Rose told me what you are going through. I just couldn't believe it when she explained everything. Why didn't you call? How could you have been hiding this all these years? Where is Edward? Are you ok? Oh my God, we're going to have so much fun tonight!" Her usual bubbly self, Alice spouts off questions and comments so fast I barely register everything she is saying. I can't help but laugh.

Rose grabs our hands and we make our way into the club before I can even try to form an answer to her rapid interrogation.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Three cosmopolitans later, we are sitting near the back of the club at a small round table with high bar stools. I have spilled my guts, catching Alice up on all the finer details of my fucked-up life. A writer for The Seattle Times Entertainment section, Alice also catches me up on the latest and greatest in the who's-who of Seattle, including some scandalous gossip about our city's mayor. We have laughed, I've cried a few times, we've gossiped about the other club-goers' fashion sense, we've picked apart Jax's décor, we've danced in between drinks. It has been a wonderful night. I wonder why we don't do this more often?

I'm drunk.

Not super drunk, but definitely warm and fuzzy. I'm starting to feel a little clumsier than normal, but what the hell, I refuse to sit out the next dance purely as a safety precaution.

Men have been checking us out all night. By the time the third guy was brave enough to approach us with an offer to buy a round of drinks, Rose has lost her patience and layed into him so bad, I'm sure he walked away with a shriveled dick and an unrecoverable wounded pride. As sorry as I felt for the poor bastard, I couldn't help but laugh my ass off. Rose sure as hell knows how to scare someone stupid.

Rose and Alice are naming off artists and song titles as they play, and I feel like a social pariah – I honestly have never heard most of what is playing over the sound system. I really need to get out more.

When the next song plays ("Forever" by Chris Brown, as Rose has informed me), Alice squeals and grabs our arms, dragging us on to the dance floor, pumping with bodies writhing to the beat and flashing with the multi-colored lights.

It really is an awesome song – although I've never been much of a dancer, I get lost in the music, closing my eyes and letting the rhythm and words take over my body. Shit, I think I drank too much.

I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist, a body beginning to match my rhythm, gyrating behind me. For a few moments, I enjoy the feeling of it and entertain the thought that maybe it's Edward. Maybe he came for me. Oh, I've missed his touch.

I really did have too much to drink.

Suddenly, I snap out of my cosmo and love induced haze. No, this is not Edward. This is a complete stranger. And he's _touching _me. A lot. Oh, shit, that is just not ok.

I spin around, breaking his grip. He is cute, but he's not my husband. I'm married for Christ-sake. I debate on whether or not I should punch him in the face or knee him in the nuts. Ok, calm the fuck down, Bella. He was just trying to dance with me.

He has dark skin and jet-black hair. He is super-tall, with an athletic build that could rival Emmett's. He must see the look of horror on my face, because he smiles apologetically and throws his hands up the air in defense.

"Sorry, beautiful, I didn't mean to come on so strong."

His voice is deep and gravelly, not at all smooth and velvety like Edward's. He's charming, but looks like he's in his early twenties. He definitely needs to mature a little bit, but I feel bad for planning an all-out assault on the poor guy. It is a club after all.

I smile apologetically, and hold up my left hand, wiggling my fingers so he gets the message loud and clear. I'm taken, buddy.

He simply shrugs, smiles, and walks away with one last wink.

I turn back to my girls and find the beat again.

I think I need another cosmopolitan.

~~~~ATA~~~~

About five drinks too late, we realize we really should get going.

I am far too inebriated. Smashed, really. How much did I drink? I don't think I've ever been this intoxicated in my life.

Barely able to walk, I somehow manage to find my cell phone to check the time. It is 2:47 AM. My vision is blurry and I am fairly certain that I will puke in the very near future. Oh, fuck. I can't remember the last time I was drunk. Oh, this is going to be one hell of a hangover in the morning.

I giggle to myself as I recall the first time Edward and I drank too much together. The night we first made love. Oh, alcohol got us into this mess – at the moment I can't seem to recall much, but I am quite sure the arrangement had been working up until that point; the point where the lines became blurred and physical attraction turned into emotional dependency. At least on my part, anyway. Fucking bastard.

Why am I so sweaty? I glance around, looking for my girls. Apparently, it had taken much longer for me than I thought to find my cell and relive my first Edward sexcapades. I've lost them. Fuck. Why did I drink so much? My head is spinning, my legs feel like jello, and I'm alone in a night club.

"Bella! What the fuck are you doing?" Oh, shit. Rose is standing right next to me. God, how much did I drink. I squint, trying to focus on her. I just can't seem to get my lips and tongue to coordinate to form any kind of answer, so I just grin and shake my head, which of course causes her to throw her head back and laugh at me.

Where am I again? Oh, yes, we were going to leave. Time to go home and see my Edward. I am _so _going to wake him up and give him a piece of my mind. But I just can't seem to remember exactly why I'm so mad at him.

What the hell is going on? What the fuck was in those drinks?

Eventually we make to a cab that is waiting on the street for us. I look around, amazed that it just seems to be waiting there. Rose and Alice are laughing at something, Alice's hand grabbing at her crotch like she is trying not to pee her pants. Suddenly I'm laughing with them; although I have no idea what the hell is so funny. Laughing is making my head hurt and my stomach churn, but I just can't seem to stop.

"Where you headed to?" the cab driver asks, snapping the three of us back to reality. Rose rattles off her address, and then informs me that Alice is staying with her tonight.

"You want to come with us? I'm not sure you should be going home alone in the state you're in," Rose says to me, in between giggles.

"Nah, I'm gonna go home and kick Edward's ass." At least that's what I try to say, but I'm sure it ends up sounding like gibberish. My tongue feels fuzzy and swollen. I can't seem to keep my eyes open.

"What's your address, sweetheart?" the cab driver asks me with a wink in the rear view mirror.

I open my mouth to answer and then scrunch up my forehead in concentration. I can't remember my own fucking address. Where the hell do I live?

"I don't know!" I answer in a panicked tone. Holy shit! How am I going to get home? What the hell is wrong with me?

Rose starts laughing and answers for me. God, how is she so clearheaded when I can't seem to form one single coherent thought.

Fuck.

I'm kind of hungry. And some orange juice sounds pretty good too. Do I have my purse? Yes. It's right here in my hand. God, my lips are dry. I wonder what my hair looks like.

"Bella! You're home, baby girl." Rose's voice sounds groggy. Shit, did we fall asleep? Am I awake now? Oh my God, how am I going to get up those steps?

I hug and kiss Rose and Alice goodbye.

"Love you, sugar. Call me and let me know how it all works out. Let's have lunch soon," Alice says, sending me off with her megawatt smile. Oh, it was so nice to see her again. I really need to keep in touch better.

"Give him hell, sister!" Rose's parting advice makes me grin goofily.

I stumble on my way out of the cab, nearly face-planting on the cement. Shit, I'm never going to make it up the walk to the front door. Maybe I should just lie down in the grass? Surely someone will find me before I die of exposure, right? Fuck, where's my purse? Oh, still in my hand.

I rub a hand across my sweaty forehead. I bet I look like ass – I sure feel like it. I wonder if I can stay awake long enough to make some French toast? Yeah, that sounds good. I hope we have orange juice. Or maybe a Diet Coke. I'm really fucking hungry.

I somehow make it to the front door, although I have no recollection of actually making the journey. My eyes are starting to close on their own, no matter how much my foggy brain wills them to stay open. Just a few more steps – come on, I can do this. God, I hope I don't puke.

I find my key and with two hands try to match it up to the keyhole, which is moving around like we are playing target practice on a video game. Fuck! Why won't the hole stay still? Oh my God! I think I'm falling backward. No, it's not me – everything is spinning. I shake my head. Come on, Bella! Think! If the keyhole won't stay still, what should I do? The doorbell! I'll just push it a few times and Edward will hear it and answer the –

The door flies open, nearly giving me a heart attack. I scream – and not just a little "oh-my-God-you-started-me" kind of girly scream. It's an "I'm-the-hot-chick-in-a-horror-movie-running-away-from-a-guy-with-a-chainsaw" kind of scream.

A hand clamps over my mouth, causing me to open my eyes and try to focus. I look up and see Edward, his face a mixture of worry and anger. Uh oh.

"Calm down, Bella! Do you want the neighbors to call the police? Christ!" Oh yeah, he's pissed. Well, screw him. He's the one that scared me – if he didn't want me to scream at the top of my lungs, he could have eased the door open and calmly announced his presence or something. Fuck. I'm still hungry.

Stepping partially out of the doorway, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me through, closing the door behind us. Thank God he is supporting some of my weight – I'm sure I would have fallen by now. Why did I wear heels again? My ankles are throbbing.

Why is everything still spinning?

"How much did you drink? Jesus, Bella! How did you get home?" He's staring at me intensely.

I just can't seem to talk again. Why is my mouth so dry? I open and close it a few times, trying to just get something, anything out, but nope, just not going to happen.

He's getting frustrated. Heaving a big breath and running his hand over his face and through his disheveled mess of hair, he returns to just staring at me.

I'm now leaning against the hallway wall. It's quite. To quiet, except for the pounding in my head that has started.

I just stare back, because honestly, I have no idea what the hell is going on. I can barely remember getting home. Rose and Alice! I hope they got home safe. I should call them to make sure. Do I have my cell phone? I hope I didn't leave it in the cab. I really want to take my heels off, but I'm afraid to bend over. I _really _don't want to puke right now.

"I saw you with him."

What? I look up and see that Edward's troubled eyes are fixed on mine. What the hell is he talking about? God, I still can't seem to talk. I need a drink of water or something.

"At the club. I came to see you. You were dancing with some guy. He had his hands all over you. _And you just let him._"

He shakes his head before continuing. He doesn't make eye contact again, instead focusing on some abstract thing behind me.

"I couldn't take it. I left. I just couldn't watch it anymore."

Oh, his voice sounds so tortured. Why was he at the club? And why does he think someone had their hands all over me? Is this about the guy I pushed away? Did that really happen? Everything seems fuzzy, like a dream.

Oh, please don't make me puke right now. I swallow convulsively, willing my stomach to calm down.

"Did you fuck him?"

Whoa. Where did that come from? Doesn't he know how much I love him? Doesn't he know me better than that? God, the room is still spinning.

What were we talking about again?

I'm still hungry. Maybe that will calm my stomach down.

"I want pancakes," I blurt out. Fuck. My tongue starts working again and that's all I can say?

Oh, no.

My eyes close and blackness takes over…

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A/N: Sooooo…..what'd ya think? The next morning is going to be interesting, yeah? Thank you all for continuing to read and would love to hear your thoughts!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Hey again! I want to thank you all for the amazing reviews – I have read and cherished every one and I am truly sorry that I haven't been able to reply to more of them. I hope you enjoy this chapter – I think our dear Bella and gorgeous yet slightly idiotic Edward are finally going to make some progress…let's see how Bella's feeling this morning, shall we?

P.S. I entered a story for the "For the Love of a Man in Uniform" One-Shot Contest! It's anonymous, so I can't tell you which one, but I would love it if you take the time to read and vote! There are some awesome entries! You can find under FF penname A Man in Uniform OS Contest...voting is open until July 25th.

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 9**

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I'm sure I'm dreaming.

Everything is foggy and I'm surrounded by fairies and marshmallows. But I think the fairies are of the evil variety, because they keep banging their little fairy fists on my head. I keep trying to tell them to stop, but I can't find my voice.

Far off in the distance, beyond the evil fairy monsters and clouds of marshmallows, I see Edward. He looks worried and his face is contorted in anger. His lips are moving and I can tell he's asking me something, but I can't hear over the pounding.

The pain is blinding.

I try so hard to concentrate, to see what my Edward is asking me, but the pounding takes over. I want to run to him. I want him to find me and wrap me in his arms and tell me this is all a dream. I need him to tell me everything is going to be alright. But he doesn't come. That look of anger on his face breaks my heart.

"_Did you fuck him?"_

Without warning, the vivid pictures fade away into the fog, but I can still feel their fists taking their aggression out on my brain. I pray for the pain to stop, but the blackness takes over as I fall once again into nothingness…

~~~~ATA~~~~

My head throbs, alternating between a pulsating ache deep in my brain and a feeling of sharp objects piercing my skull.

What on earth possessed me to drink so much? What the fuck is the point of having a night out to relieve stress if the outcome is this?

I want to stretch, but I'm too afraid to move for fear of making the throbbing worse. My eyelids feel as though they've been pasted shut, and try as I might, I can't seem to unglue them.

It's soft and warm. Am I in bed? How did I get here?

Flashes of images assault me, bits and pieces of memories from the evening before. I remember drinking. I remember dancing and laughing. I vaguely remember taking a cab home with Rose and Alice. God, I hope they made it home alright.

I recall having trouble with the lock on the front door.

I remember Edward.

Oh, fuck, he was at the club. He saw me there, dancing with Mr. Can't Keep His Hands to Himself. Why was Edward so angry? I pushed that guy away. I showed him my ring.

"_Did you fuck him?"_

I cringe internally. I am angry and hurt that he would ever doubt me. I have given him everything. I gave up my future and rearranged my life for him, thrusting myself into his world. A world completely different from anything I've ever known. Sure, I did it for some selfish reasons, but I've been nothing but loyal to him. I gave him my _heart – _my _love_ – on a fucking platter.

"_Did you fuck him?"_

Who the fuck does he think he is? God, why couldn't he have just stuck around for a few more minutes? Or, better yet, why did he feel like it was ok to spy on me? He could have come over to me, danced with me, shown me some fucking affection for a change. Is hiding in the shadows so much more appealing?

"_Did you fuck him?"_

Would it really have mattered so much if I had? He doesn't seem to give a second thought to anything I do or anything I feel, and now all of the sudden he acts all possessive and needy? Nope. Not going to work. We declared our love for each other – I thought it was a turning point. But _he_ chose to act like it didn't matter. _He _chose to pretend like it never happened.

So screw him.

If he wants to play head games, well then so can I. I've never been one of _those _girls, but I think now would certainly be a reasonable time to start. Maybe I should just let him stew on this for awhile.

Obviously the thought of me giving my body to another man was disturbing to him. So maybe I should just let that image stay in his head for the time being. I don't even know why he's so upset – is it because he loves me and is afraid to lose me? Or is it because he worries about his reputation? Can't have a slut of a wife running around now can we. Or maybe it's just because he feels he owns me and doesn't want to share.

Like I'm a toy or something. His _trophy wife._

I know one thing for sure, though; I'm not going to clear the air until he admits to whatever is going on in that messed up, issue-riddled brain of his. I absolutely refuse to lie around for one more minute, wondering about his feelings and intentions. Fuck that. It's time for him to declare something for a change.

How long have I been lying here? The pain is still there, now made worse by my internal debates and rambling. If it were physically possible for my head to explode, I'm certain it would have by now. The pressure is so bad, I almost wish it would just to relieve the tension.

Is there anything left here? Is it time to just cut my losses and walk away from this? Even if we could work through our feelings and actually communicate like two normal adults, I can't help but wonder if we have moved past the point of no return. We've spent a week not speaking to one another. He obviously doesn't trust me, given his behavior last night. I honestly don't trust him anymore either. I don't trust him to protect me, to ever put me first, to ever truly act as a real husband should. There is clearly a really big problem if I've considered that deceiving him about me sleeping with another man sounds like a better option that just sitting down and fucking talking to him. These thoughts cause my chest to ache, which combined with my head makes me feel like I actually might die.

I just can't do this anymore.

It's time to make it right, even if that means ending this. I tried it Emmett's way, and look where that's gotten me. All I'm left with is a hangover from hell and an angry, deluded husband. Well, fuck that. It's back to my original plan. This is over.

I need to face the pain, both physical and emotional, and get up. The thought of prying my eyes open sounds ridiculously awful. I also need to face Edward, I suppose. That sounds kind of awful as well.

Slowly, I open my eyes, wincing as the crusty gunk that covers them rips painfully apart.

Oh, shit, that was not a good idea.

The second my eyes attempt to turn the light in the room into something for my brain to decipher, I feel dizzy and nauseous. I quickly snap them shut and try to breathe deeply, willing my stomach to calm down and the vertigo to cease.

I reach my hands out to my sides, feeling around me. Yes, I must be in bed.

Tentatively, I open my eyes again, blinking through the lightheadedness. The sun is peeking through the wooden shades that cover our windows. I slowly sit up, my muscles protesting violently. God, I feel like I've just lost a Sumo match.

The covers slip down slightly, and I realize I'm wearing one of Edward's t-shirts. My bra is gone, but my panties are still there. My hair is pulled back into a high ponytail. I always sleep with a ponytail to avoid dreams of being strangled when my hair sticks to my neck.

And I suddenly feel like I can't breathe.

This is overwhelming.

Just as I've resolved to make that hard decision I've been dreading, he has to go and do something like this. He must have carried me to bed, changed my clothes so I'd be more comfortable, and even thought to put my hair back.

How can this man be so confusing? His words and his actions never quite catch up to one another. It's whiplash left and right – I never know what to expect. I need some fucking stability. Just when I think he's a complete asshole, he has to go and do something sweet, like put his drunk-off-her-ass wife to bed. He could have just taken my dress and shoes off and pulled the covers up. But no, he went all out.

I start rocking back and forth, like a child.

And the waterworks start.

My hands grasp at my head as my sobs intensify the pain there, in turn making the crying worse.

Oh, God. What, now? I love him so much! I hurt so bad. I feel so small.

My whole body shakes with the power of my emotional meltdown. The sounds coming from my mouth and chest sound inhuman. Desperate and harsh. Just gone – fucking gone. I can't breathe. Am I hyperventilating? God, I try so hard to calm my breathing, but it's all just too much. There's just no stopping it.

"Bella? Baby, what's wrong?" Edward's panicked, velvety voice fills the room.

I can't even look at him. My hands still grip the sides of my skull, covering my ears, trying to block out the pain.

I feel his arms around me, his torso pressing against me. I'm sobbing so violently, shaking, rattled with fear, want, pain, regret, sadness – every emotion from the past two weeks pouring violently out of my body. I want to push him away and pull him closer at the same time.

It's just too much.

"Bella, baby, you need to calm down. Please, you're scaring me. Breathe, please breathe."

He pulls me into his lap, shushing me and running his hand up and down my back. He sounds so frightened. If I had any control left or any ability to speak, I would reassure him that I'm fine.

But I'm not fine. I try to focus on breathing deeply. My ear is pressed against his chest as one of his hands cradles at my neck. His body is rocking us back and forth subtly, but it's comforting. I can hear his heart pounding with adrenaline and I begin counting the beats.

I focus on the warmth of being wrapped up in him, close to him, the firmness of his body, and the gentleness of his hands as they continue to rub soothing patterns where they hold me. His soft shushing sounds as I feel his lips blowing out soft breaths at the top of my head. It's almost embarrassing – I've just had another of many breakdowns. But I just can't find it in me to care. In my dream I remember wanting so badly for him to come to me and wrap me in his arms and I'm finally where I wanted to be.

Minutes pass and I can finally feel the sobbing start to ebb to quiet hiccupping and sniffling. His heart has slowed to a much less frantic pattern. I feel the beats vibrating against my cheek and I cringe a little at the fact that his shirt is completely soaked.

The evidence of my pain is right there, soaking right into his skin, right over his heart.

Can he feel it? Can he feel the love and need I have for him? Can he feel how he hurts me?

I realize my hands are still gripping tightly, digging into my scalp. I ease my fingers and slowly pull them away, testing to see if the throbbing gets worse with the loss of pressure. When I realize the pain is just as bad with or without it, I let my hands drop to lay flat against his chest.

There I hesitate, wondering if I should give in to the instinct to push him away. But I don't. Instead, I let my heart lead, much to my head and logic's protests, and throw my shaking arms around him. I grip him tightly, just wanting to prolong the feeling of closeness. His hold on my tightens in return and I feel that overwhelming sense of emotion start to take over again, my breathing speeding up and tears increasing in speed. Focusing on his heart, I manage to keep the hysterics at bay for the time being, my breathing slowing after a few seconds.

And then he starts to pull away.

No! Dread consumes me instantly. He can't pull away from me again – I just can't let that happen.

"Shh. I'm not going anywhere, I was just going to turn us around so you could lie back down." His voice is soft and soothing, his hand returns to rubbing my back gently.

I somehow manage to squeak out a breathy and shaky "Ok" before I feel him lift me slightly, spinning us and placing my head on the pillow. His arms never leave me, but his body has shifted and he and I now lie face to face, mere inches apart. I feel his breath on my face, and for a second I panic hoping that my breath doesn't smell like death – or like a million sour cosmopolitans.

I hiccup and sniffle again as I look into his eyes. He looks so worried, like he's aged since the last time I saw him.

I want to say something. I want to tell him I'm leaving, but I just don't have the resolve any longer.

Because the truth is, I know I'm not going anywhere. I gave him my heart and I suppose that means it's his to do with as he pleases. I may as well buckle up for a life of pain and misery, because I just can't say away from him. Those green eyes staring back at me right now own me. These arms and hands that are soothing me at the moment, will always hold me here – even when we are in separate rooms and barely on speaking terms.

I am Edward Cullen's wife, even as fucked up of a title as that may be sometimes

He may change, he may not. If he doesn't, if _I _don't, we're in for some long lonely days ahead. So something's got to give. Because I know I may not have it in me to leave, but I sure as hell don't have it in me to stay with things like this.

"I pushed him away," I blurt out. Once again, my voice decides to make its reappearance through short and ridiculous sentences.

Obviously confused, his brow creases as he replies with a witty, "Huh?"

"At the club. I had drank so much, but when I realized what was going on, I pushed him away and showed him my wedding ring." My voice sounds scratchy. It's almost painful to talk. Barely whispering, I continue, closing my eyes as the words escape. "I would never cheat on you. I can't believe you would think that."

His hand leaves my neck, his index finger tracing a soft path of fire gently across my jaw, stopping to gently run over my lips. It's pure torture.

But he says nothing. For a full minute, the only sound that fills the room is our breathing. Just before it becomes too much and I open my mouth to interrupt with some more rambling, he begins to speak.

"I know you wouldn't. And I'm so sorry that spoke to you that way last night. I knew you wouldn't do that, but I was just so upset," he says, softly, slowly.

"But why were you upset if you knew I'd done nothing wrong?" I ask.

"I just…I don't know…this past week has just been absolute shit." His hand leaves me to run a frustrated path over his face and through his wild hair. He rolls over to his back and I miss the heat instantly. I can't help but fear this is him retreating away again.

Not this time. Avoidance certainly hasn't been working out too well for us up to this point and it's time for it to stop.

"Edward, why did you come to the club?" I ask carefully.

He looks over at me again. I am grateful for the eye contact, somehow knowing that if we lose that, this moment will end. And we'll be back at square one.

"You looked so beautiful last night. All week I've been trying to figure out how to make this right, but every time I tried to talk to you, I just ended up acting like an ass. And then you came down those steps and you looked so…I don't know…so young and happy….like you couldn't wait to get away from me. Happy to escape or something." He pauses, looking away for a few moments before his eyes return and he continues. "After you guys left, I just started freaking out. I just wanted to see you. I just wanted to watch you for a while, see what you were like away from me. I never get to see you like that. When we go out, it always has to be some kind of act – like you aren't really being you. You're never just Bella. For the past couple of years, it just seems like you're a different person outside of this room. I guess, in a way, it's kind of the same as I am – I have to be a certain character outside of here. Play a certain part." He takes a deep breath, like he's not sure how to continue.

He turns his body suddenly, so that he is facing me again.

"And it just kills me to know that you're that way because of me. It's like I've taken something pure and tainted it and I somehow knew all along that it would happen, but because I'm selfish I never bothered to fight it. I used to watch you in that coffee shop, smiling and talking with customers and the people you worked with. When you would smile, I swear the whole room would light up. People seemed to just gravitate towards you."

He looks up, thinking. His lips curve up into an almost smile.

"I know I did too. I think that's why I started talking to you. There was just something about you – you were warm and always seemed to be glowing. I remember thinking you were like Christmas, like hot cocoa or sugar cookies or something." He chuckles slightly. I just stare at him. I can feel my cheeks heat up. I'm pretty sure that's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said about me. My eyes start to well with tears. I wish I would have known all these years that he thought of me like that – like more than a business deal.

"And then after we got married, it was like you changed to fit into the role. And I just _let_ you change. And I shouldn't have done that. And then that night happened. And it was like, when we were in here, when we were making love, you became that girl again. And I felt like I could be the real me. But when we'd leave this room, the masks would come back on. And then last night, when I saw you, you looked like you again. The _real_ you."

He pauses again, this time for much longer. I'm taken aback by his revelations. He's right and it kills me. I've always recognized his mask, but never really spent enough time analyzing who I was, who I'd become. Honestly, I always thought that I was being what he wanted, what he signed up for.

"Bella, I'm sorry I went to the club. And I'm so sorry for what I said. I just got so jealous seeing you there, seeing you happy and carefree. But most of all, I'm sorry that you don't feel like you can be that way with me. I wish that I could make you feel that way and I just don't know how."

He reaches up tentatively, cupping my cheek, gently running the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone. I lean into the touch, my heart beating frantically against my rib cage.

My heart pounds because I want that too. I want to feel happy and carefree. But I also want him to feel that way. My issues combined with his have snowballed, turning us into one gigantic, emotionally-retarded mass of disarray.

Is it fixable?

"Bella, I meant it when I told you I love you." His eyes flicker back and forth between mine, searching for something, pleading with me to believe him.

"I love you too, so much," I say softly, pleading with him just as much as he is with me.

"How do we fix this?" he asks, his face finally revealing the pain and longing that I've waited for. This is what I had wanted to see all along – the same desperation that I have been feeling.

It wasn't always just about him loving me in return, it was about him wanting this, us, to work. Wanting more and actually doing something to get it.

"I don't know how to fix it, Edward. But I want to, so bad." I take a breath, searching for the right words, knowing how important this conversation is. "Last week, the way we left things at the hotel, I felt like you wanted things to stay the same. Like you were willing to love me only if it didn't mess up our lives as we knew them. But, Edward, I can't settle for that anymore. I need to know that if we are trying to put the effort into making this a real marriage, that you are in it, all or nothing. I always feel like I'm on some kind of rollercoaster ride with you…I never know what you're feeling or thinking. You say you love me, but your actions don't always show it." I close my eyes, knowing I can't look into his for this last part. "I need to know that you're here with me, that you want this is as much as I do. Because I want it more than anything."

I open my eyes after a moment, wanting to and yet dreading to see what emotions his face holds.

And what I see shocks me. His eyes are shining with unshed tears and he looks lost and broken.

"Bella, I…" He takes a deep breath. "I am here with you. I'm in this all or nothing. I need you to understand that I'm going to fuck this up sometimes. You scare me – _this _scares me. I've never…I don't always know what I'm doing, but I promise you I will try my hardest to be the husband I should be. But I need you to promise me that you'll talk to me – that you'll tell me when I'm fucking things up so I can fix it. And I promise I'll always try to fix it."

A tear slides down my cheek and my heart soars as I nod in response.

_This _is the moment I've waited for. And I wish I could say that the moment is perfect and it ends with us in a lover's embrace, passionately making love while we whisper words of promises and forever to each other, but in truth it isn't. Because my head still pounds, my mouth tastes like beef jerky, and I'm sure his right arm has fallen asleep from being trapped beneath my armpit for so long.

But, regardless of those things, it is _the _moment. And I've never thought I could love him as much as I do right now. Looking into those beautiful eyes of his which are looking back at me with the same love and adoration, at his jaw line covered in stubble, and feeling his tear-soaked shirt pressed against my chest – this moment couldn't be any better.

For the first time in four years, I can see a future for us – a reality, a marriage, love, hopes, dreams. I know there are more words to say. More arguments to be had. More details to hash out.

But for this moment, I don't think of those things. I just snuggle up close to him again, close my eyes, try to ignore the pounding headache that has plagued me all morning, and just bask in the warmth.

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**A/N: [**whispers]…well, now that they've talked a little, I think they might be craving a little lemon next chapter, yeah? Hmmmmm….


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **As always, thank you for the amazing reviews and for continuing to read! Sorry for the delay in posting…real life has been just gloriously crazy lately. Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long….so how will Bella and Edward's morning progress? Let's take a peek and see…..

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 10**

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We lay in silence for several minutes, neither of us making any effort to move or speak. I would love to prolong the moment, the closeness, as long as possible. My eyelids feel heavy, but I know sleep is just not an option. As wonderful as our moment feels, I really need some Advil. And brushing my teeth doesn't sound so bad either.

No matter how slowly I've moved, as I pull away from Edward to sit up, the jarring of the movement causes the ache in my head to intensify. My hands once again seek out my temples and press as if somehow that will force the pain out.

Edward sits up as well, resting on one elbow as he places his other palm softly to my forehead.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly.

I nod my head slightly in response, keeping my eyes closed. I feel the pressure of the mattress give a little and realize he has stood up. Opening my eyes, I cringe again at the light in the room.

"Thank you for taking care of me last night," I say softly, squinting up at him as he removes is soaked shirt, revealing his toned chest.

He cocks his head to the side and looks almost sad for a moment as his eyes bore into mine, searching for what, I don't know. He averts his gaze nervously before he responds. "You're welcome. Thank you for taking care of me for the past four years." With a small smile and a sweep of his hand through his crazy hair, he turns and leaves the room, wearing only a pair of plaid, flannel pajama bottoms.

I remain where I am, wondering why he left so abruptly. If the pain in my head and the ache in my body weren't taking up so much of my concentration, I would start to panic, wondering if maybe this was the start of the cycle all over again. We make some major breakthrough, only for him to pull away immediately after.

No, I must give him the benefit of the doubt. This is hard for him. For a man who is so brilliant, he lacks experience in many things. It has been far too long since he has actually had to answer to anybody for anything. A man like Edward certainly doesn't realize that to an emotional wreck like myself, leaving the room abruptly after a deep, romantic moment doesn't exactly appear like the actions of a man in love.

Why are my feet hurting so badly? Every movement beneath the sheets feels like fire on them. I throw the covers back to inspect the damage. I gasp at what I see – my shins are littered with small bruises and my feet are torn up with blisters, no doubt the product of a certain pair of silver, strappy heels.

Yeah, girl's night out is fun, but fucking hell – if I ever taste another cosmopolitan again, it'll be far too soon.

I carefully move my legs to hang over the side of the bed. I close my eyes and massage my aching thighs with the palms of my hands while I give myself an internal motivational speech to get myself out of bed. Advil. Teeth. Shower. Band-Aids and fuzzy socks for my feet. Maybe some Icy Hot for my thighs.

And food.

My stomach is swirling about and I honestly can't tell if I'm going to puke or if I'm starving.

But food does sound good.

With one last deep breath, I'm ready to move. Just as my toes touch the ground and I steady myself on my feet, Edward returns, bustling through the door in a rush.

"Where are you going? I think you should lie down and rest for a while until your head feels better," he says in his anxious tone while handing me an ice-cold bottle of water and placing two pills in my hand.

I look down, my eyes widening at the water and Advil. Oh! This is not what I had expected at all. I feel my lip start to quiver at the emotion that settles over me. Once again, he has surprised me. He has had his sweet moments over the years, sure, but this morning has been overwhelming. He has made it clear that he needs some adjusting to our new arrangement, but now I see that so do I.

I've never let anyone take care of me. I've never had anyone in my life _willing _to take care of me. Small things like this take me by surprise and to be honest, make me a little bit uncomfortable. But if he's willing, I clearly need to find it within myself to accept it gracefully.

I shake my head lightly, willing myself to return to the present, causing a solitary tear to travel down my cheek. God, one emotional breakdown per day, please. Is that too much to ask?

With a shaking hand, I pop the medicine in my mouth and swallow it down, delighted at the feel of the cold water. Not realizing how thirsty my poor, alcohol-ridden body is, the water is just pure bliss.

Looking back at his face, I see he looks a bit panicked again. "What's wrong?" he asks. "Are you sick? Do you need to go to the doctor? Maybe you drank too much and you should get checked out."

"Uh…no, I'm fine. It's just a hangover." By the look on his face, he clearly doesn't believe me.

Not wanting to get into another deep discussion this morning, I turn away and make my way to the closet. I gather the necessities in my arms – panties, bra, socks, a soft grey tank top, and a pair of black yoga pants. Turning to head to the bathroom, I am startled to find myself colliding with Edward's bare chest. How on earth does he move so silently? Luckily, his arms reach up to steady me, planting his hands at my hips and squeezing gently.

I can feel the warmth of his hands through the thin material of my t-shirt and it feels incredible. In a moment of split decision, I drop my arms and my clothing tumbles to the floor with a soft, muted thud. I curve into him, pressing my body to his and burrowing my forehead in his heated neck. Without hesitation, his arms embrace me, encircling me with their warmth and protectiveness. It just feels so amazing to be held and I don't want it to end. I want to curl up inside him and stay there forever, safe and warm.

"What are you going to do?" he asks, and for a moment I'm not quite sure what he's asking.

"I'm going to take a shower and then eat something," I respond, my words muffled slightly by the fact that my face is still pressed firmly against his collarbone.

"Would you like to me to cook you something? Or we could go out if you'd prefer."

I close my eyes and smile. Edward's sweet and caring alter ego is still here.

He pulls away, breaking the tight embrace, but his hands still remain firmly planted at my hips, gently kneading the flesh there.

"I could make you some pancakes," he says with a smirk.

I grin up at him…it's not often that Edward makes a funny.

"Let's go out," I say, still grinning, despite the fact that the Advil hasn't kicked in yet.

"Ok. I'll shower after you and then we can leave. Are you sure you feel up to it?"

I nod. He leans forward and kisses my forehead softly before turning to leave.

I decide that I need to dress at least one step up from yoga pants and instead pick out a pair of denim shorts, the bruises on my legs can go to hell – it's a hot summer day and I want to be comfortable.

I shower quickly, scrubbing every inch of my body carefully to remove the grimy feeling leftover from a night full of sweaty dancing. After brushing my teeth, I decide to forego the hairdryer and make-up. It's a Saturday morning and I have a hangover. After breakfast, I plan on doing nothing but lounging around and hydrating, and I definitely look the part now.

When I exit the bathroom, I find Edward sitting bent over on the side of the bed, his elbows resting on his thighs and his shoulders slumped. He sits up as I approach and looks at me carefully.

"Feeling better?"

"Much."

I hesitate. I'm not sure what to say or do. Why is this so awkward? In movies, declarations of love are followed by romantic music and credits rolling. They don't show those awkward moments where the hero and his love are trying to figure out the rules – trying to figure out how to move from one phase of the relationship to another. Ours is certainly an odd situation.

What is the proper protocol for when a contractual marriage becomes a real marriage?

And _fuck,_ what about the contract? Does it go away? Will he just want to amend it to become a standard pre-nup? What if he asks me to attend a dinner party, do I now have the power to say no?

What about my career? I have one more year of school left before I'll have my English degree. I've always wanted to write or work in journalism in some fashion, but I hadn't given it much thought the past few years. Our contract requested that I not work so as to be available to him for business functions as needed. Can I work now? For four years, I've really done nothing useful with my life other than be at his beck and call. What do I even want to do? Maybe I'll volunteer or something.

He wanted a baby. Does he still? I certainly am not ready for that.

Holy shit.

After this morning, I thought we were good. But no, there is still so much to discuss.

But honestly, I just don't feel like it. I don't think I have another heart-to-heart discussion in me today. But it can't really wait, can it? I mean, how do we proceed if we don't know the rules? Fuck, why isn't there a movie about this or something? At least then I'd have something to go off of.

I look at him. He is still regarding me carefully, as if he isn't sure if I'm about to run or have another meltdown or something. I blow out a breath as I stare at him.

I'm sure if this is awkward for me, it must be ten times worse for him. This is, after all, Edward we're talking about. He sharpens his #2 pencils to the exact same length and then throws them out after one use because he doesn't like the look of uneven pencils in his pencil cup. He pays his housekeeper triple the normal salary, but insists on doing most household tasks himself or having me doing them, like making the bed, which must be done a certain way.

He overanalyzes everything. God, I would love to get a peek in his brain or hear his thoughts right now. If I'm freaking out, surely he must be ten steps ahead of me as usual.

Having wanted to do this since our talk ended, but not wanting to subject him to my morning breath, I have the sudden urge to attack him. He really is a beautiful man, issues and all.

Never breaking eye contact, I walk forward slowly, not in a seductive way, but just so he knows my intentions. I'm not ready for sex with him yet – there is still too much to say, too many decisions to make, before I feel comfortable giving myself to him again. I just crave some intimacy, to comfort him, for him to comfort me. For us to have another moment of connection. I just want a kiss. I just want to feel his arms one more time before we delve deeper into analyzing what our future holds.

I lift my leg and carefully place one knee beside his thigh. His face registers surprise, but I just continue to stare into his eyes. With my other knee in place, I straddle his lap, slowly lowering myself to rest on top of him. My hands leave a slow heated trail, tracing the panes of his bare chest and shoulders, to their final resting place at the back of his neck, my fingers tangled in his wild hair. His green eyes bore into mine, filled with questions, uncertainties, and may things I can't recognize. What I do recognize is the look of love and pleading – the same string of emotions I'm feeling at this very moment. We're not where we want to be yet, but we'll get there.

I softly press my lips to his, not moving, just barely touching. He closes the space between us – his arms wrapping themselves around me, the pressure of him holding me so close pulls me down further and I can feel that he's hard and yearning for me. His lips meet mine, increasing the pressure and deepening our kiss. His hands trail softly up my back, pushing my shirt up to gently stroke the soft skin of my bare back. I make no further movement, ignoring the instincts to grind down on him to bring us toward release – this isn't about that. This is about us meeting in the middle, sealing our intentions and making promises to one another that transcend mere physical pleasure. His lips are so soft, his breath minty and cool, the taste of his tongue as it meets mine is enough to leave me gasping and trembling with desire for more. Our movements are synchronized and sensual, speaking the words we have yet to say.

The need for air is what finally drives our moment to an end, but our bodies stay connected, our foreheads resting against one another, our eyes open and full of unspoken words as we gaze at each other. As if the moment has become too intense, he breaks the gaze and pulls me even closer, crushing me to him as he buries his face in the damp hair at my neck. Our breathing remains heavy as I clutch him as if my life depended on it.

One of his hands releases their hold on me, only to move up, pushing the hair off of my face and cupping my neck. I feel his breath, causing me to shiver at the intimacy of it all, as he whispers oh so softly in my ear.

"I love you so much, baby."

Simple words, but they mean everything to me. To hear him say them – without having to make some dramatic escape to pull them out of him and not said in the heat of anger or angst. Just soft whispered words.

I pull back and look in his eyes, hoping he'll see the emotions behind my reply.

"I love you, too."

With one last chaste kiss, I stand up and smile at him as I help him to his feet.

"I'll meet you downstairs," I say as I turn to leave.

With a few minutes to kill, I realize I have yet to check on Rose today. As I dial her number, I hope she's not feeling the same level of pain I am. Luckily, the pain medicine has done wonders already – hopefully she and Alice are at the same point in their recovery.

The phone rings three times before I hear the click of someone answering.

"Hey, Bells! I hope you are in better shape than my Rosie this morning." Expecting Rose, Emmett's deep voice startles me. I can picture his big smile through his joking greeting and it brings a grin to my face.

"I don't know about that. I thought I might actually die there for a few minutes when I woke up. How are Rose and Alice?"

"Well, she and Alice are currently passed out on the living room and my favorite recliner is covered in vomit, so I'm going to say not so good. Damn, for such a little thing, that Alice can sure make a fucking mess." He ends his speech with a laugh. Rose is so lucky to have him. I can't help but chuckle. There really are very few men who would laugh about their wife coming home plastered and her friend puking all over the place.

"I'm so sorry, Emmett. I can't believe we drank so much."

"No need to apologize. I got plenty of entertainment last night when they came stumbling in. Rosie kept going on about cutting off Edward's nuts and wanting to eat a hot dog. I couldn't even understand half the shit she was saying. Then they both just passed out on the floor. It was fucking crazy. I was afraid to move them in case they started with the spewing again."

I laugh at his colorful descriptions. I can just picture drunk Rose going off on a tangent. She can be downright scary sober, I can only imagine her descriptive language when coupled with a dozen cosmos.

"Will you tell Rose to call me later when she's awake and coherent?"

"Sure thing, Bells. Make sure to drink lots of water. And probably a beer too…that always helps."

"Will do, Em. Thanks..I love you guys."

"Love you too, Belly."

As I press the End button, I hear a throat clearing behind me. I turn around to find a freshly showered Edward, looking as handsome as ever in a navy blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He rarely dresses so casual, though I certainly wish he would more often. He looks so at ease and lively when he's not all intimidating in a power tie.

"Is Rose alright?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine concern.

I nod and smile. "Yes, Emmett's taking care of her. Emmett said Rose and Alice are passed out on the floor still. Seems I'm in much better shape than them this morning."

He smiles and holds his hand out. "Let's get you some food," he says as his hand envelopes my much smaller one.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Seated in a booth at the back of the diner, we are fortunate enough to fairly far away from the nearest occupied table. It's time to man up and ask him some of the questions that have been plaguing my mind and at least we have a small bit of privacy for this tough conversation.

I am working on my second Diet Coke, while Edward is nursing a cup of coffee. My hangover thirst has outweighed my need to for daintiness and polite table manners as I greedily suck down the liquid.

Despite my fixation on pancakes in the last twelve hours, the second I saw the picture of French toast, I changed my mind. By the time the waitress places a huge platter with French toast, scrambled eggs, sausage, and hashbrowns in front of me, my mouth is watering and I immediately begin stuffing my face.

Edward chuckles at my antics as he approaches his omelet in a much more civilized fashion.

We eat mostly in silence, given the fact that I am much too focused on my food to have any sort of intelligent conversation yet. In spite of me eating like a gorilla, Edward finishes long before me and I decide to take a break from feeding my face to broach some of the topics I was hoping to discuss.

"So, I want to ask you some things." I say, staring down at my plate while pushing a piece of sausage around nervously with my fork.

He clears his throat and in my peripheral vision, I can see him fidgeting nervously before gripping his coffee cup with both hands.

"Alright. What would you like to ask?" he says softly, the nervousness seeping into his voice.

Blowing out a breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding, still staring downward, I let the words fall from my mouth in a rush before I lose my resolve.

"Does this change our agreement?"

Silence.

I wait a full minute before I finally gain the courage to face him head on. I'm surprised to see he looks completely confused. He opens his mouth and then shuts it, clearly trying to work out what to say.

"I…well, I kind of assumed that was a given."

Now I'm confused.

"What?" I ask.

"Well, I mean, of course it changes the agreement. I kind of assumed that the contract was null and void now. Am I wrong?" The confidence has returned to his voice.

"That's what I'd like, but I didn't know if you felt the same. I mean, there are a lot of details to discuss. Like, what about your business dinners and things? Do you still want me to go?"

His brow furrows and he looks taken aback. I don't understand why he looks so offended. It's a legitimate question to ask, isn't it?

"I had kind of hoped that as my wife, you would _want _to attend events with me. I certainly won't _make _you go anywhere you don't want to, but I guess I didn't realize you were unhappy with that part of our arrangement."

"No! I'm not saying that…I guess what I'm asking is what you expect of me. I've lived by the contract for so long, I don't know what everything will be like without it. I mean, like can I get a job? I graduate next year and I'd like to do something useful with my time. I know you didn't want me working, but does that change now?"

He takes a deep breath and contemplates his answer for a few moments. He seems hesitant, like he's afraid to give the wrong answer. Before his over-analytical mind can take over, I intervene.

"Edward, I'm not trying to back you into a corner or anything…I just want to know where we go from here. There are things I'd like to do for myself, like a job for instance, but I think they should be joint decisions between us. I guess I want to know what your expectations are. Do you want everything to stay the same or can we talk about making some changes?" I sound panicked and rushed in my little speech. I'm afraid once again that I'm pushing him towards withdrawing back into himself.

His face softens and I immediately relax, knowing that he's still here – still with me and willing to communicate.

"Bella, I want you to be my wife. That's what I expect of you. I want you to be happy. I want us to be able to talk about things. You know that you don't have to work – I want to take care of you. But I understand if you want to get a job or pursue something outside the home. I know we have some things to work out, but let's take them one at a time and talk about them as they come. I don't know what our lives will be like now – I think that's something we have to let fall into place." He reaches over and grabs my hand, squeezing it to punctuate his words. He's right and the relief I feel at hearing him say it is immense. For once, we have the freedom to explore, grow, change – things we've never had to do when our lives were dictated by the agreement.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

I can't seem to find the right words to ask my next question.

"Do you…um…were you serious about wanting a child?" I ask, my cheeks blushing pink. Why on earth I would feel embarrassed to ask this, I have no idea. I've shared this man's bed and we've gone through two weeks of pure hell – surely, I should be able to talk about children.

"I do want us to have children. Later. I'm sorry about the way I approached that subject with you. If I could take it back, I would. I think we need to work on _us _first and then we can talk about it again."

He smiles at me, a smile that is lighter and less intense than I've seen in a long time from him.

"Will you go out to dinner with me?" he asks, the smile widening, as if he's just solved a riddle or something. He looks so young, so carefree and happy suddenly.

The irony of it causes me to giggle. The sweetness of his proposal, the cuteness of his smile – we've been married for years, yet this man has just asked me out on our real first date.

"I would love to go out to dinner with you."

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**A/N: **So, I know I promised a good, lemony chapter and I had written it in, but I just don't think Bella was quite ready for that. She just couldn't relax enough to let it happen, so we need to be patient with her. Up next, their first date….stay tuned! Thank you so much for sticking with this story!

By the way – two more days left to read, review and vote for your favorite entry in the "For the Love of a Man in Uniform" contest! Check it out under FF penname "A Man in Uniform OS Contest"….one of the entries is mine and it could sure use some love!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Thank you as always for the amazing reviews and kind words! So, we finally get to join our troubled couple on their first date – I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed putting it into words :-)

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 11**

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The ride back to our house is quiet. Too quiet.

I feel like a socially awkward 16-year-old girl who's just been asked to the prom by a guy she's been having sex dreams about for months.

I'm nervous. Like _really_ fucking nervous.

So much of our lives was predetermined and planned. So much of the way I've acted in his presence was just not me – it's hard to be the real me surrounded by this life full of fancy cars, expensive restaurants, and black tie affairs. Going out to dinner, just the two of us, without the safety net of several of his colleagues that I'm forced to make inconsequential conversation with is an entirely new experience for us.

Where will we go?

What will we talk about?

What should I wear?

By the time he pulls into our garage, my brain is riddled with anxiety and I'm contemplating how ridiculous I'll look if I put my head between my knees to keep from hyperventilating.

And then the self-doubt sets in.

God, I'm such a moron. My _husband_ is taking me out to dinner and I'm having a fucking panic attack? What the hell is wrong with me? This is what I _wanted_, right? We're making progress – moving forward…starting our lives.

So why am I so nervous? Why am I not jumping up and down in excitement rather than clasping my hands together to keep Edward from seeing how bad they are shaking?

What happened to the giddiness I felt at the diner?

Ok. Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. I'm acting like a fucking idiot.

I love this man. I've loved him for a long time. If I can't find something to keep the conversation going through one damn dinner, then this just isn't meant to be.

That's the problem – it feels like this entire relationship hangs in the balance on this one evening.

Which is completely and utterly absurd. I don't even know why I'm panicking about this.

Dinner will be fine. We'll talk, maybe laugh a little, eat some good food, and then come home. We're _married_ and after tonight we'll still be married. So what if dinner is awkward? All first dates are awkward. But I think it's safe to assume that our first date will lead to a second date. Because we already _love_ each other.

Ok, crisis averted.

I think.

Unfortunately, although this entire exchange has happened inside my head over the past few minutes and I've tried to look as normal as possible, it's fairly apparent that I have failed.

When I finally return to reality and take in my surroundings, I look up to realize we are parked, the car is shut off, and Edward is staring at me with a look of combined confusion and horror.

Well, damn.

In a normal relationship, I'm sure I could just come right on out and say, "Hey, don't mind me – I've just had a panic attack over something completely ridiculous because even though I mentally laugh at you and your stupid pencils and OCD-ness, I can't even accept a dinner date from my husband without completely over-thinking and sabotaging it with 'what ifs'. That's why I'm all clammy and my legs are shaking like a kid with ADD who ate too many pixie stix. But hey, it's cool."

And then we'd laugh, high five each other and take off inside the house to have some incredible sex.

Nope, that approach just isn't going to work here.

So I just plaster a big smile on my face and exit the car without another word. Yep, I'm choosing avoidance.

Luckily, Edward follows, but wisely doesn't ask questions about my weird, silent meltdown.

I guess we'll just add this to the many things we should discuss later.

~~~~ATA~~~~

After a brief and semi-awkward pause inside the door, Edward has excused himself to work for awhile on the premise that he has some emails he needs to respond to. While the annoying, girly side of me is somewhat offended by this, the still slightly hung over and a bit nervous part of me is grateful for the time alone. It is barely early afternoon, so I have plenty of time to relax. I should call Rose again – I've still yet to hear from her. Hopefully she's no longer on the living room floor. And hopefully she and Alice have helped Emmett clean up the mess.

Shit. Edward has long since closed himself off in his study and I have no idea what time I need to be ready.

Damn it, what's the plan?

We just aren't very good at this dating stuff, I guess.

After a few more minutes of standing around, looking like an idiot in my indecision, I decide I'm wasting too much of my relaxation time. A bath and TV, I think. Yes – that's what I'm going to do. No more stressing over anything for me.

At least for a few more hours, anyway.

~~~~ATA~~~~

An hour later, I find myself fighting the urge to close my eyes and succumb to sleep as I soak in our large oval bathtub, steam filling the air around me. Surrounded by the sweet and spicy scent of bubble bath, punctuated with a fresh apple scent and a clean and crisp woodsy undertone, my senses are finally at peace. No more over-thinking, no freaking out, just calm and soothing thoughts fill my crazy head. The foamy softness of bubbles moving calmly against my skin and the gentle flickering of several candles have soothed away the last of the aches and queasiness leftover from my overindulgence last night and I'm sad to feel the water beginning to cool, knowing that I'll have to get out soon.

Perhaps I could just run another bath – this is just too wonderful to end anytime soon. I've still got time before my date. At least I think I do. I have no idea what time it is or how long I've been sitting in here in my own little oasis. Or what time we're leaving.

And right now, I honestly don't care. I just close my eyes and drift in and out of consciousness once more.

A light shuffling sound forces me to look up. As I hadn't closed the bathroom door completely, through the six-inch gap I spy Edward passing through our room. I wonder if he's looking for me.

After a few seconds, he returns, peering tentatively through the door, clearly unsure if he has permission to enter.

"Hi," I say softly, followed by a gentle smile.

His answering smile is just as gentle and after a brief pause, he pushes the door fully open with one extended arm.

As he takes in the sight before him, he cocks his head to one side.

"Are you alright?"

I grin up at him. "Yes."

Suddenly, I'm thankful for my tendency to add entirely too much bubble bath. The white mountains of foam cover up most of the Bella-goods, giving only a view of my wet shoulders, with just a delicate hint of the very tops of my breasts. This man may know my body better than anyone, but I do think it is probably not quite appropriate to show too much skin before he even buys me dinner.

His smile widens briefly, still showing a touch of concern, but mostly relief, before his brows knit together slightly. He begins chewing on the inside of his cheek and glancing around nervously.

"Um…may I sit with you for a bit?" he asks, before finally returning his eyes to mine. I must say, I'm both impressed and slightly annoyed that his eyes have yet to venture any lower.

I smile up at him and nod.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. Obviously, he probably didn't mean he was going to join me in the bath. But still, I'm surprised when he crosses the small space before sinking to the ground, leaning his back to the wall with his jean-covered legs extended, mirroring my position though on the outside of the bathtub. I subconsciously lean my head slightly towards his, our foreheads merely inches apart, our eyes gazing into one another.

I'm not sure what to say. He apparently isn't either, as he remains silent, just watching me carefully. It's both flattering and unnerving to some degree. It's nice to be so close and the intimacy of the moment is almost more than had he actually joined me beneath the water. It's sweet. And innocent. And it makes me love him all the more.

After a few moments, I decide to break the silence.

"Did you get your work done for the day?"

"Yes," he answers, with just a hint of a smile.

He reaches out, so slowly it's almost painful, and just barely brushes my cheekbone. His fingers graze further, tucking a wet strand of hair behind my ear, leaving a warm path of tingles in their wake. I suck in a breath at the contact, my mouth dropping slightly in a surprised "O".

And then he leans forward. His lips touch mine in a soft, simple, and chaste kiss. There is no movement on either our parts to deepen the kiss, no tongues sneaking out to turn it into a prelude to something more physical, no gasping and moaning, but it is enough to send a quake of tingling all the way down to my toes. So intimate, yet completely innocent. A mere few seconds later, he pulls back, his fingers following the movement, tracing along my jaw line so softly, I'm almost not sure if the gentle touch even happened.

Having been so swept up in the tender moment, I hadn't even realized my eyed had closed. As they flutter open, my breath hitches at the intensity of the look on his face. It's pure love and bliss - a look I've longed to see from him in so long, that now that I've seen it I vow to do whatever is in my power to keep it there. It's just simply stunning.

He clears his throat quietly.

"Um…let's leave at six or so, alright?"

Too stunned to form a coherent response, I simply nod in return.

It isn't before he's stood and is halfway out the door before my voice finds me again.

"Wait!" He turns sharply, surprise and worry etched on his face.

"Um, what should I wear?"

His eyes widen and that beautiful, carefree smile I had a glimpse of at the diner returns.

"Jeans. We're going casual tonight." And with that he leaves.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Dressed in a pair of Capri-length skinny jeans, a black peasant top, and ballet flats, I for once feel happy and not the slightest bit nervous – anxious to see what my Edward has planned for the evening. I've chosen to leave my hair down in soft tousles and they blow gently in the breeze of the partially opened windows as his car speeds through the twilight.

His jeans and dark green polo shirt have once again left me breathless. If it were up to me, I'd never let him put on a suit and tie again. I like this casual, carefree version of him.

"Where are we going?" I ask softly, pushing some hair off my face before glancing over at him.

His head tips slightly, his eyes sliding over to glance at me briefly with a smile on his lips.

"It's a surprise," he replies, offering no further explanation.

When we pull into the parking lot of Lou's Seafood House, I can't help the giggle that escapes. When he said casual, he certainly meant it. This is one of my all time favorite restaurants and I can't honestly picture Edward ever having known that, let alone actually eating here by choice. Once again, he has surprised me and I can't help but beam brightly over at him. As he helps me from the car, his smile matches my own.

It's going to be a good night – I can just feel any last bit of awkwardness and nervousness melt away as we walk through the summer night towards Lou's.

The large building, made to look like a large, rustic cabin, is topped with a large, flashing, neon caricature of a lobster. The food is simply divine – huge portions, which is always a plus in my book.

We are seated quickly at a nicked and rickety wooden table near the back, once again lucky to have some privacy in the otherwise bustling restaurant.

We've both chosen the lobster platter – a whole lobster, a bowl of clam chowder, steamed veggies, and steak fries. I scoffed at his offer to order a bottle of wine and after a brief moment of confusion, he chuckled in response. I instead have decided to stick with iced tea and lemon, while he is nursing a beer.

We settle into a comfortable silence while we wait for our food to arrive.

Eventually, the silence becomes too much for me and I long to hear his voice again.

"Let's play twenty questions!" I blurt out.

His barking laugh surprises me.

"Ok. What are the rules?" he asks, still chuckling.

"Well, we take turns asking questions and then we have to answer the same question. It seems like a good date activity, yeah?"

He grins. "Sure. You go first. What do you want to know?"

I contemplate my approach. I have twenty opportunities to dig further into the complex mind of the man I love.

And I just can't think of anything to ask. It's sort of like how I can think of a million things I want until someone asks me what I want for Christmas and I draw a complete blank. Damn it.

Finally, after a smirking Edward has stared me down for several moments, a random question pops into my head.

"Did you have any pets when you were growing up?"

He looks entirely surprised. So am I. I've tried to figure this man out for years, and this is the only thing I can think to ask?

His smirk returns. "Um. Yeah, I had a dog once. Her name was Georgia, but I called her George. She was a yellow cocker spaniel." I grin, picturing a little green-eyed boy playing with his childhood pet. I've met his parents a few times of course, and for some reason I could never quite picture Esme and Carlisle as pet people.

"Your turn."

"Oh, um, my dad bought me a kitten once, but it turns out I'm allergic, so I had to get rid of her after a few weeks. That was my only one. She was so cute, but I kept breaking out in hives and sneezing so I wasn't too sad to see her go."

His smile is sweet and indulgent.

Our food arrives, and both of us looking completely silly in the required plastic bibs, we begin the process of cracking open our lobsters. It's messy and fun – the perfect first date.

"Your turn," I say, with a grin.

He chews on the inside of his cheek while he thinks, staring down at his hands while he attempts to crack open his lobster claw.

"Ok…what were your parents like growing up? Every time I meet them, I just can't quite figure them out."

Biting my lip, I try to find the right words to respond. "Well, they divorced when I was so young and my mom walked out, so I rarely saw her growing up. It was almost always just me and Charlie, you know. He's a good dad, but just really quiet. I don't think he really knew how to raise a kid, let alone a girl, so I think he liked to pretend I was a boy. He made me watch sports and go fishing and stuff all the time. But we were happy, you know? He tried his best." I take a breath. This is one of those topics I generally shy away from. "What about your parents?"

He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. It seems we have this in common.

"My parents were great. You've met them, they've always been really loving and open. After they had me, um, Esme couldn't have any more children, and I think that was really hard on her. I remember her being depressed a lot about it. But I think it made them sort of pour all of their efforts into me, like piano lessons and grades and stuff. I know they were just trying to do what they thought was best, but they always had really high expectations. I love them though. Always have." He smiles wistfully, looking off into the distance before returning his eyes to me.

I suddenly have a much clearer picture of why he might be the way he is. His parents' expectations of perfection provide a glimpse into his own perfectionism. My heart aches a little bit for him. I wonder if he'll be that way with our kids, if we ever have them.

Shaking my head slightly, I think about my next question. Looking down as I swirl a fry in ketchup, I ask my question quietly.

"Why did you decide to come here for dinner? It's perfect, but definitely not what I thought you would choose."

He chuckles quietly, almost shyly.

"Um…" he trails off, wiping his hands on his napkin. The pause is so long, I'm not sure if he's going to answer and I start to feel bad for putting him on the spot like this. He looks up, he eyes not quite meeting mine, but staring off into the space behind me.

"Do you remember last year when you saw that spider in the kitchen?" he asks.

Confused, I nod.

"It was early in the morning and you were making coffee. You started screaming for me. I remember I came running to the kitchen, half dressed. Just slacks on and barefoot. I was freaking out, thinking maybe someone had broken in or something. You were still in your pajamas, your hair a mess." He smiles, looking down. "I had to fight not to burst out laughing when I realized it was just a spider. You were so cute. You're always so calm, but you were acting like you were being attacked by a serial killer or something. After I killed it and made sure you were ok, as I was finishing getting dressed, I kept thinking how _normal_ it was. You know? I was just a husband who killed a spider for his wife."

He blows out a breath quietly and smiles at me.

"You know, that's what I want for us. To be a normal couple. Those every day kind of things. I want to be the man who kills spiders for you. I want us to be able to hang out and watch TV. I wanted tonight to be like that. I love my job, but I hate all of the things that go along with it. Honestly, I hate wearing a tux and having to rub shoulders with people who are supposedly important. I want us to not be _that_."

Another pause. My lip has started to quiver, taken aback by the sheer magnitude of what he's saying.

He leans forward, taking my hand in his, his beautiful eyes staring right into mine and I have no doubt that he has meant every word he says.

"I heard you a couple of years ago talking to Rose and you mentioned that this is your favorite place. When I invited you to dinner, this was the first place I thought of because I want to be the one who gives you your favorite things, you know? If we're going to make this work – and I want us to work so badly – I want us to be able to just be _us _when we're together. That's why I chose this place." Suddenly, his confidence slips slightly, the nervousness seeping in. "I hope that's alright," he finishes quietly.

I nod frantically, tears sliding down my face, happy tears – tears full of promise and the comfort and safety of knowing we're on the same page and headed in the same direction. Together.

His shy answering smile is so beautiful and it's overwhelming to know he feels the same as I do.

As dinner continues on, our questions become sillier, an unspoken agreement that we should finish on a lighter note. I've learned that his favorite color is blue, he absolutely hates spinach, he secretly wishes his hair wasn't so red, and he loves it when I choose not to wear makeup. I've laughingly shared that I love the color green, hate strawberry ice cream, wish I could get rid of the small freckles sprinkled across my nose and cheeks, and I love seeing him dressed so casually.

I love him. And with every passing second, I love him even more.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Arriving home after dinner, my chest begins to feel heavy with sadness that our evening has come to a close.

Where do we go from here? I want it all. And I'm so impatient for it to happen now.

But I know we need to take this slowly. We need to build our relationship and make sure our foundation is one of love and mutual respect. That can't happen in one night, I know.

At the door to our bedroom, I begin to feel some anxiety creeping into my thoughts. It's been an amazing night and I know there are many more amazing nights to come. Am I ready to reintroduce the physical side of our relationship? I honestly don't know. I want him. I want to feel his skin on mine. I want to feel him inside me. I want that connection.

But is it too soon?

We stare at each other, both clearly conflicted as to how this ends.

He slowly steps towards me, his hands reaching out slowly before finally resting at my cheeks. My breath hitches as he moves closer still, our lips hovering against one another, not touching, breathing into one another. When they finally meet, a slow, sensual movement takes over. It's not frantic. There's no fight for dominance. It's tongues slowly feeling each other, hands gently massaging, lips gently pressing, tasting, wanting more, but making no effort to push it further. His hands never leave my face. No clothes are torn off in a fight against passion.

It's the single more incredible moment of my life. And in those lingering moments, I forget about the past. There is no _before_ – only _now. _ We've known each other, explored one another physically in carnal acts before. But this – it's amazing and breathtaking and makes every single part of my body erupt into a tingling fire. It's as if we've never touched before.

This is our first real kiss.

I'm both thankful and disappointed when he pulls away to rest his forehead to mine. I know we won't go any further tonight. It's perfect just as it is. We're both left longing for more, but knowing we need to be patient.

Later, as we climb into bed, lying beside each other, as I'm slowly drifting off to sleep in his embrace, I realize I've never experienced happiness and pleasure like this. His arms are wound tightly around me, my face buried in the soft hairs of his firm chest.

As I feel his breathing deepen in his chest, my mind drifts to the future. Will we one day lay here, chatting about our day, about funny things our kids said, about chores we need to remember tomorrow?

As I finally succumb to sleep, I feel nothing but content, knowing our lives together have only just started.

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**A/N: **Sooooooo….Yes? No? Whatcha thinkin'? I'd love to hear from you! Thank you as always for following this story and for all of your words of encouragement – it means more to me that I could ever describe in words. Hope you are still with me!


	12. Chapter 12

I'm dating my husband.

Such a silly thing to say, but it's true.

Since our first date, two weeks of amazing, and at times, awkward firsts have ensued.

Last Thursday, we went to our first movie together – a horror flick which was far too cheesy to even pull the old "I'm scared, hold me!" trick in the theater. But it was awesome nonetheless – we shared popcorn, held hands, and even snuck in a kiss or two in our little secluded bubble in the back row of the darkened theater.

Sunday, we spent the day at an art exhibit, during which my awe at a particularly painting caused Edward to rush right over to the office, despite my protests, and purchase it at the exorbitant cost the artist was asking. A beautiful and eerie depiction of a stormy beach now hangs in our living room and causes me to sigh with happiness every time I pass it.

Yesterday, we ate dinner at a beautiful and quaint little Italian place bathed in flickering candlelight. Although we've yet to conduct another formal session of Twenty Questions, our conversations have continued in the same manner, each of us trying to get to know one another on this new level we are creating.

We've somehow settled into some kind of hybrid routine – the old life mixed with the new. Edward still works ridiculous hours and it has certainly put a damper on our dating life. But we've enjoyed dinner together when we can and we talk each night before bed. For two people with major communication issues, I'd say we're doing as good as could be expected.

I still want more. I want us to not have these awkward moments any longer. Patience has never really been my strong point. Although I did wait four years for him to come around – you'd think I'd be used to waiting by now.

We've yet to cross over into a physical relationship, which is both comforting and irritating. My own sexual frustration has taken a back seat to my nervousness. I have this crazy, unspoken fear that finally "doing the deed" as a real and honest couple will somehow take us back to where we were. We have certainly shared some pretty intense intimate moments, but his hands have yet to stray under the bra and although I'm sure his frustration mirrors mine, neither of us have pushed to go further or have even broached the subject. The whole thing has added a new level of stress and I feel like a parent giving myself an embarrassing sex talk. _If you are too embarrassed to talk about sex, then you shouldn't be having it. _Well put.

Soon, I suppose, D-day will arrive and I'll need to actually discuss these fears I have with him. I fear the shame I'll have to face in admitting to him that I'd offered my body to him on so many occasions in the past for entirely the wrong reasons – to keep him, to make him happy, to feel loved, to feel wanted – oh, the list is endless. I fear going back to that place in my mind when we finally to become intimate again – will I be doing it for the right reasons or will there be a nagging voice in my head calling me a whore again? I'm about 99% sure that nagging voice has been put to rest, but still the fear is there.

And then, after thinking these things, I want to smack myself across the face for being of those whiney bitches I've always hated – am I _still _doubting the sincerity of this relationship? Will I always? Will he change his mind? Will I change my mind?

See? Whiney bitch.

There are other changes too. I need and want to change me – reclaim my identity and independence. And I want to do it for the right reasons. Edward's declaration that he missed when I was full of life had really hit home and brought out my own inner turmoil. The day I said "I do" to him was also the day I began shutting down and closing myself off.

It's been so long since I've sat down and asked myself what I want to be when I grow up. Two years ago, I would have answered "Edward's wife." Today, I have no idea what my answer is.

Which is why I'm currently standing at the counter of our campus bookstore, ready to purchase a large stack of expensive and heavy textbooks for the first semester of my last year of college classes, staring at my shiny black American Express card having an internal conversation about what my future holds.

It had all suddenly hit me when I looked at that damn credit card. No limit. Isabella M Cullen proudly displayed in silver against the shiny black backdrop. The problem? Isabella M Cullen would never have been approved for one of those damn cards. And the money that pays that bill every month is certainly something I've never earned.

Our agreement, null and void or not, had ensured that should we divorce, I would certainly not have to worry about supporting myself for a very, very long time.

But the thing is I _can't_ support myself. I went from making coffee to people in suits, to being a trophy wife, to being a student. And next year, I may walk away with a degree, but I'll have no professional experience and nothing to fall back on.

Although I'm trying not to be pessimistic about our relationship, but the fact remains that there is always a possibility that Edward and I may part ways at some point. Things change. People change. This could change.

And if it does, I don't want to spend the rest of my life living off of Edward. I want a career. I want to do something _by_ myself _for _myself.

I want to go to one of those damn parties with him and be able to shake somebody's hand and then proudly announce what I do for a living.

I don't want to be a housewife. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a housewife, but it just isn't going to work for me anymore. I mean, come on, we have a _maid_ for crying out loud. Half the time, someone else prepares our meals. I can't even go on and on about all of the charitable organizations I work with, because I basically do nothing but make sure I'm at Edward's beck and call.

After I've hauled and dumped the heavy stack of books in my car and am safely seated in the driver's seat with the air conditioning blowing in my over-heated and sweaty face, I sit here contemplating my next steps.

I need a job.

As I pull into our driveway, I glance at the clock. I have several hours before Edward will be home and I decide this is the perfect time to start job hunting.

I fire up my laptop and begin the search.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Three days later, I'm standing outside a large, rundown brick building. A weathered sign reads "Healthy Beginnings" surrounded by multi-colored handprints. I smooth down my gray pencil skirt, sad to see that wrinkles have formed on the short drive here. My navy blue blouse and navy heels complete the look, and I'm hoping I've nailed the professional, yet stylish look I was aiming for as I dressed this morning.

I am twenty minutes early for my interview with Ms. Irina Gomez for a Materials Specialist position. Irina had been so kind on the phone, and although I'm sure I should be, I'm actually not very nervous. I've done my homework and research and I'm as prepared as I feel I can be.

Healthy Beginnings is a local non-profit organization that works with low-income families to assist them in finding resources for food, employment, and health care assistance. The Materials Specialist creates and edits marketing materials, newsletters, and gathers information about other community organizations with similar goals and offerings to help keep the staff at Healthy Beginnings staff up to date on what services are available to their clients.

I did not tell Edward about my job search or this interview. A nagging feeling of guilt has haunted me for not talking to him first, but my pride had kept my mouth shut. To be honest, I didn't want to tell anybody about this.

I'm afraid of failing. And I don't want to fail publicly.

As irrational as it is, I was afraid Edward would either be upset that I was looking for a job or would offer his advise and become overbearing. No, this is something I want to do on my own. And if it doesn't work out, well then I don't have to deal with the inferiority complex that's sure to come from having to explain my failure to a husband who is one of the most successful businessmen in the country.

One last deep breath and I finally push through the double glass doors to reveal a small reception area. One corner is complete with a small children's table and a toy box full of beat up toys. The walls are lined with posters educating visitors about food stamps, the free and reduced school lunch program, the importance of prenatal care and birth control options, and a few different health insurance programs.

Behind the small reception desk sits a pretty young woman, probably in her early twenties, with dark skin and hair and a pair of glasses. She smiles up at me and I smile back, comfortable in her open and friendly appearance. The nameplate on her desk reads Angela Barker.

"Can I help you?" she asks, still smiling warmly.

"Yes, I'm Bella Cullen. I have an appointment with Irina Gomez."

Ok, now I'm nervous. Deep, calming breaths, Bella. I _really _want this job.

"Welcome! I'll let her know you're here. Go ahead and have a seat and she should be right up."

"Thank you," I answer and turn to sit in one of the plastic seats.

She calls Irina and I continue to look around, excited again.

Five minutes later, a woman in her mid-forties comes through a wooden door at the far end of the room. She smiles brightly as she approaches me. Her hair is in a messy bun and her clothes have a hippie kind of feel to them – a long, flowing turquoise and white skirt with a white peasant top, complete with turquoise jewelry and a pair of white flip flops. Her hair and dark complexion are dark and she is quite beautiful with strong features.

I stand as she approaches, returning her smile. I instantly liked her on the phone, but meeting her in person has sealed the deal. She exudes energy and warmth in such a way that I almost want to hug her.

Her hand shoots out and she shakes my hand enthusiastically.

"Hi, Bella! I'm Irina! It's so nice to meet you in person."

"It's wonderful to meet you too, Irina." My smile widens. I really like her.

"Come on! Let's go back to my office." She gestures widely with one arm, throwing the other around my shoulders and pulling me along as we head to the wooden door she arrived through.

The door opens up to a large office space, complete with several occupied cubicles. At one side, there are a few offices that read "Meeting Room" on the doors and I'm assuming these rooms are used to meet with their clients. Another glass wall looks through to a large conference room. Visually, I would guess there are about twenty or so employees milling about or at their desks.

Irina leads us into another office, clearly belonging to her. The walls hold colorful paintings, children's drawings, and several photographs. She sits at her desk and gestures for me to take a seat at one of the chairs facing her.

I try to focus on not fidgeting as she opens a leather folder containing a legal pad.

The last interview I've been too was for making coffee, so the sight of that pad of paper has sent my nerves aflutter. I've done a lot of research the past few days on possible interview questions, but I sure wish I had some practical experience to apply. Now I'm suddenly second-guessing my decision not to confide in Edward – I'm sure he could have helped me prepare for this.

"So, Bella, we spoke a lot on the phone, so I don't think we really need to go through a full interview process since you've already told me about yourself and your experience. I'd like to tell you a little bit more about the job to make sure you fully understand what you'd be getting into if you accepted this position. Does that sound ok?" She's still smiling. I think this is definitely a good sign.

"Absolutely," I respond, my voice clear and confident. I mentally give myself a high five at my composure under pressure.

"You've told me that you have a love for reading and writing and I think that will apply here perfectly. You'll need to sift through a lot of information and materials to create summaries of different programs, resources and services. We have to make sure that all of the written materials we provide our clients are written at a third grade reading level or less – this is important because we want to make sure people understand what they are reading. You may also have to interact with other organizations, like the Food Stamps office, for example to coordinate our materials with theirs and get their approval. We produce monthly newsletters, which we send to the various organizations we work with to keep them up to date on what we are doing and our progress and such. Oh, and you'll also help write some of our internal materials, like policy and procedure manuals and things. Do you have any questions about the job responsibilities?" Wow, Irina can talk. This whole speech took only a handful of seconds and I don't even think she's out of breath.

"No, I've done a lot of research about Healthy Beginnings and I feel comfortable with the type of writing I'd be doing."

"Perfect! Now, there are some other things I want to talk about. We'd discussed that this position is part-time, correct?"

I nod.

"Since you won't be working with clients, your hours can be pretty flexible. I'd just like to know ahead of time what days and hours you'll be working so I can schedule any meetings we might need with you appropriately." I nod again. Her smile falters slightly and she looks at me thoughtfully.

"There is something else we need to talk about. I'm sure you've gathered by now that we are fairly limited in budget and resources. Our funding typically comes from grants and private donations and we try to put most of that money to use in ways that benefit our clients. I'll be honest with you, I can't pay nearly enough for what your responsibilities would include. We have a hard time finding and keeping good staff and I want to be as upfront and honest as possible about the fact that money has a lot to do with that fact."

I clear my throat – I'm not quite sure what the appropriate response would be here, so I choose to just answer honestly.

"Irina, I'll be honest, money isn't really my main focus right now. I don't have a lot of professional experience and I don't even have my degree yet. I'm looking for the experience more than anything." I take a deep breath and look down at my hands. "I haven't worked in a long time. I want to find something rewarding, you know? I want to do something I can be proud of. I'd really like to have the opportunity to do that here."

I look back up at her and her answering smile is radiant. I blow out a quiet breath of relief.

"By the way, we dress casual here," she says with a wink, sticking her foot in the air and wiggling her flip flop clad foot in the air.

Twenty minutes later, we're shaking hands and I've promised to start tomorrow at 9 AM with orientation and paperwork.

Exiting the building with a warm goodbye from Angela, I fight the urge to jump up and down, squealing with excitement.

This is it – I'm moving forward. I have some goals. I have a plan.

A quick stop at the grocery store and 45 minutes later, I'm back home and in my jeans.

I'm going to make a celebratory dinner. I'm nervous about breaking the news to Edward, so hopefully I can butter him up with some steak, twice-baked potatoes, and a homemade carrot cake. I really should have told him about my interview. That little pang of guilt had been twitching on and off as I roamed the aisles of the grocery store.

With a sigh, I decide to push it out of my mind as I start creaming together the eggs and sugar.

~~~~ATA~~~~

The table is set, candles flickering gently, bouncing light off of the beautiful pink peonies in a large bowl at the center.

I've changed from my jeans to a summer dress – not a typical move on my part, but the white cotton with pink flowers match my centerpiece and my mood. I had giggled as I slipped on my jeweled white flip flops. I've never had the opportunity to celebrate getting a job before. I'm going to be _writing_ – this is the stepping stone to realizing my dream.

I want Edward to be happy for me. For _us._

I want him to be proud of me. I want to be a woman who belongs on his arm - who fits into his life.

I hear the door open and close and know he's coming.

One last deep breath.

I take in his appearance as he walks into the dining room. He is of course handsome as always, but he looks tired as he loosens his tie. His eyes scan the room, taking in the formal place settings before his gaze lands on me. He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his face brightening, a definite improvement from the drained look he'd held as he walked in.

I return his smile and practically sprint over to him, throwing my arms around his waist and laying my head over his heart. With a chuckle, he returns the embrace, swaying us side to side ever so slightly to a non-existent music. I give a last hard squeeze before pulling back.

"I made dinner!"

His smile widens and he leans down to kiss my forehead.

"What's the occasion?" he asks.

I smile, and though I try to keep it innocent, I'm sure it has a mischievous glint to it.

"Do we need an occasion? I love cooking for you."

As we sit to eat, I decide to begin with small talk.

"How was your day?" I ask, as I cut into my steak

"Um, good. Busy. We're working on a proposal for a large data hosting facility in Denver. I actually need to fly out there for a few days later this week. I was going to send our VP of Sales, but he's busy working on that school district anti-virus project. I was actually hoping you'd come with me. I won't have much free time, but we could probably get away for a few hours to take a drive to the mountains."

Oh.

I guess now's the time to break the news.

"Um, I don't know if I can."

He drops his fork and looks up at me in confusion.

I clear my throat.

"Uh, well, I actually have some good news. I was offered a job today." He's still staring at me.

"A job?" His brow furrows.

I quietly try to clear my throat again before taking a sip of wine. My hands fidget with the cloth napkin on my lap. My heart starts beating furiously in my chest. This isn't quite how I'd envisioned this conversation.

"Well, a few days ago I did some job searching online and ended up speaking with the director at a place called Healthy Beginnings. They offer assistance to low income families looking for help with certain things. Um…today I had an interview with her and she offered me a Materials Specialist position. I'll be writing their marketing materials and newsletters and things." My voice is hoarse and quiet, thanks to my nerves. I watch him, holding my breath, waiting for his response.

His face no longer shows confusion – it's a blank, emotionless mask. This is business Edward. This is the old Edward. I suck in air sharply.

"You had an interview today. And you accepted the position." It's a statement, not a question. His voice is clear and confident.

"It's only part-time," I say, as if this will somehow convince him this is a good thing.

He swallows, looking away for a brief second before his cold stare returns to mine.

"Well, congratulations." He returns to eating, deliberately cutting his steak with much more force than necessary. I'd have to be blind and oblivious to miss the sarcasm in his reply.

I stare at him, mouth agape for several seconds. My heart has upgraded from beating furiously to a full out pounding that echoes in my chest and ears.

When I finally find my voice, I realize I have no idea what to say. When I do finally speak, it's a harsh, tortured whisper.

"I thought you'd be happy for me." I'm sure my face shows the same shock I'm feeling inside. I can't even find it in me to try and remain composed. I'm teetering between anger and hurt, not sure which emotion is dominant at the moment. Right now, there seems to be a tie.

"Oh, I am happy for you, Isabella." His voice is hissing with anger. "I'm happy you've apparently decided there's no need for us to discuss something like this. I'm happy you obviously don't give a shit what my opinion on the matter is. I'm fucking ecstatic!"

His words are a cold, heartless slap in my face and sting just as bad. I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't speak.

He throws his napkin down, standing so abruptly the table shakes and his chair crashes to the ground behind him.

"I have some work to do. I'll be in my study."

And with that he leaves.

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**A/N:** As always, thank you all for the amazing reviews and for still reading! Also, thank you all who read and voted for your favorite "For the Love of a Man in Uniform" entry! My submission, _Disorder in the Court_, is now posted on my profile – if you're looking for some humor/smut/craziness, I highly recommend it :-)

As ever, please let me know what you think – your reviews and thoughts mean the world to me!

I know I left you all hanging here, but I'll do my best to get the next update soon!


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Sooooo…I am completely ashamed to admit that I was not able to reply to any reviews this time around...but please know that I read and cherish each and every one – they literally make me dance with joy every time one pops up in my Inbox. So onwards – we seem to be divided as far as taking sides with Edward and Bella. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

A couple of things first….

I want to say a HUGE thank you to the amazingly talented Cristag_Banner for creating a SUPER awesome banner for this story! Check out my profile for the link.

I also found out this week that I was nominated for an Emerging Swan Award as a Newbie Author, which is totally awesome and a huge honor. I'm not ashamed to admit I squealed like a little girl when I saw that :-) Voting starts August 22, so make sure to check out their website and vote for your favorite! I've put a link on my profile if you want to check it out.

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 13**

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I should have told him. That's quite obvious right now.

As I sit at the table, my half-eaten dinner now cold in front of me, I battle with the effort of trying to decipher my many raging emotions. I'm angry – that's for sure. I'm sad and remorseful that I didn't approach this whole job thing a little bit differently. But I'm still fucking angry.

His reaction was completely ridiculous and totally uncalled for.

Yes, I _should _have told him, but me getting a job is what I would consider good news nonetheless.

Right?

He had given his blessing for me to start working. He knew I wanted to explore it. Why can't he just smile and hug me in congratulations like any normal husband would?

And for fuck's sake, Edward has _never_ talked to me before making decisions. We have certainly never set a precedence of open fucking communication. I know that's probably not a good excuse for not talking to him now that the dynamics of our relationship have changed, but it's not like he stayed in his fucking seat so we could talk about it. He's not talking either.

My heart still racing in anger, I stand up and blow out the candles with a furious huff. So much for a nice romantic meal.

Aside from the anger, I'm hurt. I feel like I'm being treated like an errant child. It's not only belittling and cruel, but it's embarrassing. I've done something good for a fucking change. I've actually taken some steps toward achieving something and he has to go and make me feel like a four year old who stole her mother's lipstick.

Well, fuck that.

I stand for another minute, not sure what to do.

I eye the dishes around the table and have to fight the urge to throw one of them. I want to grab one of these steak knives and go drag it along his perfectly polished desktop. Maybe carve my initials or something.

I want to slap him.

I want to cry.

Is it always going to be like this? Two steps forward and three steps back? We were making progress. We were enjoying each other's company – getting to know one another and moving forward in our relationship. Now, we're back to square one.

Will we ever trust one another?

My breathing increases and I can feel my body start to shake with rage. God! What is fucking wrong with me?

I slump back down in my chair, burying my head in my hands, rocking back and forth to try and calm myself down.

It hurts – my chest constricts with the pain of it all. Why didn't I just fucking talk to him? I was so afraid of failure and embarrassment, but this feeling is certainly worse. Much worse.

I grab the bottle of red wine, droplets spilling out from the harsh way I've propelled it towards myself. I almost want to giggle at the mess. I hope it dries to a sticky residue that he'll have to scrub off tomorrow. Take that, OCD-man!

I sloppily pour the wine in my near-empty glass until it almost overflows. I slam the bottle down, the sound of glass meeting wood rebounding off the dining room walls.

I hope it leaves a fucking mark on his precious antique table.

I gulp down the wine, swallowing over and over again until the need for air takes over. Catching my breath, I quickly swig down the rest in my glass, letting it swirl in my mouth and relishing in the slight burn on my tongue.

In a flash of red-hot anger, one solitary tear travelling down my cheek, I chuck the wine glass as hard as I can at the wall. It shatters to pieces as it makes contact, tiny crystal prisms scattering about the room around me. God that felt good!

I grab the wine bottle, quickly gulping down every last drop. I lean over the table, my breasts pushing into my dinner plate, leaving a smattering of grease and sauce stains on the delicate fabric of my dress. I hastily grab at Edward's half-finished wine glass, quickly swallowing its remains too.

Before my better judgment can kick in, I fling his glass too, enjoying the loud crash it makes as it to shatters into pieces.

Trying to catch my breath, I grip the table, rocking back and forth again like a child trying to find some comfort in the rhythm. I suppose if he wants to treat me like a child, then at least I've acted like one with my temper tantrum.

"What the hell are you doing?" Edward's angry voice booms out behind me.

I whip around to see him standing there in shock, a cold angry stare in his eyes as he takes in the damage I've caused.

I stand on one violent motion, leveling his cold stare with my own. I fight the urge to throw something else. Years of pent up frustration have bubbled to the surface and I just want to _ruin _something – leave a mark, cause pain, cause damage. My breath is nothing but harsh pants and I don't even want to dignify him with a response.

"Fuck you, Edward," I say quietly, surprised at my level voice and the fact that I didn't just start shouting and punching. I look away from him. I can't find it in myself to look him in the eye any longer.

I push past him, quickly walking with purpose through the house to our bedroom. Thankfully, he doesn't follow. Part of me wishes he would come and confront me so I could get these words out – get this anger off my chest. But the smarter part of me knows it's best to let some time pass.

Even through the red haze of my anger, I know I'm out of line and I know I need to calm the fuck down before I cross any more lines tonight.

After I've changed into pajamas and gone through my nightly routine, I head down the hall to one of our guest bedrooms, shutting and locking the door behind me. The slow burn in my muscles from drinking so much wine so quickly has quickly turned into a sluggish, drowsiness and I just want to close my eyes and forget this day ever happened.

I can't think straight. Disjointed and crazy thoughts flow through my mind. I feel terrible. The guilt of keeping a secret from Edward was nothing to the mortification and sadness I feel at completely losing my control.

What if I pushed it too far tonight? What if he's done with me?

The light in the hall shines through the crack under the guestroom door and I watch it from my place under the covers in the darkness. When I see the light interrupted by a black shadow, I lose the ability to breathe. He's out there, standing outside the door. Oh, God, what do I do? If he knocks, will I let him in? I hear and can barely make out the jiggle of the door handle in the darkness. He's trying to come in. Should I go to him? Unlock the door? Can we talk through this?

It's so _stupid_. We're both complete idiots and obviously have the maturity of adolescents.

After a few moments the shadows disappear and he's gone.

With a shake of my head, I set the alarm and will my body to relax. I start my new job tomorrow and I'll be damned if Edward's less than warm reception of my accomplishment will ruin it for me.

I watch the minutes tick by one by one. Nearly two hours later, my eyes finally close.

~~~~ATA~~~~

The loud blaring of my alarm jars me awake with a start. I know I was dreaming of something pleasant, but I can't seem to recall what it was, thought I vaguely recall warmth and a feeling of calm and safety.

The memories of last night quickly make themselves known. Oh for the love of all that's holy – did I really act so stupidly? Even with no one watching me to witness, my skin flushes a bright, hot red as I recall myself throwing expensive crystal and hurling obscenities at my husband.

It's nearly eight and I know Edward will be long gone by now, headed off to be his successful self and conquer the world.

With very little time to shower, dress and make my way over to Healthy Beginnings, I rush from the guest room. After a few minutes of panic in the closet, I decide on a brightly flowered summer dress, topped with a light green sweater and open-toed white pumps. With my outfit laid neatly on the bed, I head to the bathroom for a speedy shower. As I start to strip out of my pajamas, something on the mirror catches my eye.

It's a green Post-it. I reach up tentatively and pull it down.

_Good luck and be safe. _

Oh!

My hand clutches at my chest, overcome with even more regret. I've acted like a maniac and he just _has_ to do something sweet, like leave a note. Nice as it is, I'm still mad. And really fucking embarrassed.

With a defeated sigh, I continue getting ready.

As I make my way to the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee, I cringe with dread before peeking into the dining room to assess the damage.

To my complete and utter shock, the room is now spotless, no sign of broken glass or half-eaten food. The table is shiny and polished as new.

Although not surprising given his tendency to hyperventilate at even the slightest of messes, knowing that Edward cleaned up the evidence of my anger makes my heart ache in a whole new way.

The guilt multiplies as I stir in the cream and sugar before heading out the door with my travel mug.

~~~~ATA~~~~

"And this program is used to track your time. I'll email you the time codes you'll need and it's really quite simple. Since we require special accounting as a non-profit, we have to be very careful about how we track the hours we work. For example, if you spend an hour in a staff meeting, we have to track that separately from any time you spend working on outreach materials."

A friendly human resources representative named Kate has been talking non-stop for over two hours. Kate is a heavy-set woman in her forties, dressed from head to toe in gray and speaking in a soft voice most adults would reserve for reading bedtime stories to their children. Through heavy eyelids, I've signed paperwork, been given a stack of materials to read, and am now learning some of the more basic job functions. Although she has been nothing but warm and kind, my wandering mind has been having much difficulty focusing on her, preferring rather to drift back to my botched dinner and a certain Post-it.

At this rate, Edward may not have to worry about my job – surely poor Kate is questioning Irina's hiring ability as I've done nothing but appear to have ADD and a poor attitude.

After another hour of torturous orientation activities, I'm finally left alone at my small cubicle to review the existing outreach and marketing materials. I'm shocked to find how poorly designed and written they are. Only a few pages in, I've already spotted two instances where "weather" was used incorrectly in place of "whether." At least I know I'll have plenty to do in the short amount of time each week I have dedicated to be here.

As I read over the long to-do list I've started compiling, I'm shocked to glance at the clock and find that my time here is already up. I quickly gather my things and say soft goodbyes to the many people I've met today. I'm both glad and sad that this position is part time. I have until Friday before I need to be back here. Although I'm anxious to get started writing, I know a couple of days is necessary to get my head in the right place to be successful here.

Once I'm seated in my car, I try to figure out what to do with the rest of my day.

I need to talk to Edward and the thought of waiting several more hours for him to come home is just too overwhelming.

Seemingly on auto-pilot, thirty minutes later, I'm in the visitor's parking at Cullen Technologies, giving myself a pep-talk to go in.

Over the years, I've only been here a handful of times. Although a good and proper trophy wife, Edward has rarely invited me here. I know he prefers for his employees to see him as an unfeeling and hard-ass boss and showing off a pretty wife might give them the impression that he's actually human, which I think he's certain will lead to complete anarchy. I have no idea how he'll receive my impromptu visit, especially given my behavior last night.

Whether he likes it or not, we need to talk. I need to apologize and so does he. I may have acted like an idiot, but so did he.

I nod to myself, resolved to get this worked out here and now.

As I ride the elevator to the 32nd floor, I try to focus on breathing deeply. I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress several times. Once again in as many days, I can't help but see the craziness of a wife being so nervous to talk to her husband.

Edward and his select executive staff take up the entire 32nd floor of the Cullen Technologies high rise. Not being a fan of heights, the few times I've been here have made me entirely uncomfortable. Edward's floor is surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, providing a view that is both splendid and terrifying. As I exit the elevator into the beige and white hallway, I find myself even more sweaty and anxious at the thought of having to not only confront him, but do so in a glass box 32 stories above solid ground.

Maybe this wasn't the best plan.

In the fancy reception area of the executive suite as they call it, a tall and beautiful blond woman sits behind a beautiful and vast antique wooden desk. She looks up as I enter and her eyes quickly take in my head to toe appearance in the universal size-up that adult women do. I want to roll my eyes at her and her fancy gray business suit. I don't recognize her – the last time I was in this office a plump woman of about fifty or so with unnatural red hair sat in that seat.

Her smile is professional, but clearly fake. I assume she doesn't often have to deal with female visitors and she must be enjoying her position of power over a lowly girl in a flowered dress such as me. What a bitch.

"Can I help you?"

I clear my throat and anchor my hands at my sides to avoid another embarrassing sweaty palm swipe.

"Yes, I need to see Edward Cullen."

Her eyes look doubtful and I'm sure she's preparing to send me away with instructions to make an appointment.

"Do you have an appointment?" Her fake smile widens.

"No, I'm his wife. I don't believe I need an appointment."

Her smile falters. Take that, bitch.

"I don't believe he's in the office right now, but if you'd like you can go on back and check with his assistant."

I plaster on my own fake smile and head off in the direction of his office.

Although I've rarely visited him, I do know his assistant quite well. Jane has worked for him for years and is one of the few Cullen Technologies employees I look forward to talking to during the many events and parties we've had to attend. Although Jane is in her mid-thirties, she doesn't look a day over twenty and is always bursting with energy and an infectious laugh that always makes me smile. Very petite and thin, Jane is beautiful and I might have worried about her catching Edward's eye except for the humorous fact that her energy makes him nervous as hell. She's an exceptional assistant, always one step ahead of him, but on a social level, she annoys the shit out of him.

"Mrs. Cullen! How are you?" Jane jumps up from her desk to give me a quick, but tight embrace.

"I'm doing well. How are you, Jane?"

"Good! How can I help you?"

"I was hoping I could see Edward for a few minutes."

Jane's face scrunched up slightly in confusion and she seemed at a loss for words.

"Um, Mr. Cullen left for Denver early this morning. He asked that they push their meetings up a few days. He won't be back until Friday morning." She fiddled with a pen nervously, obviously uncomfortable with having to give this news to me.

God, how stupid do I look? What kind of wife doesn't even know her husband left town? And what kind of husband doesn't tell his wife he's leaving?

"Oh. Um…" I quickly scrambled for any excuse. "I was at work all morning and had my phone shut off. I should have checked my messages before I came all the way here, huh?" I chuckled lightly, hoping that I at least appeared somewhat calm and collected.

"Oh! Well, I'm sorry you came all the way out here. Um, this will totally ruin the surprise, but Mr. Cullen asked me to send you some flowers and include this card. I'll still send you the flowers of course, but you may as well take the card since you're here!" Jane smiled excitedly and handed me a white envelope.

I smiled back as genuinely as I could before hugging her and taking off with a hasty goodbye and promise for lunch soon.

I can't read the damn note. As I sit in the parking lot, car idling and the cold air from the AC blowing in my face, I just can't bring myself to read the stupid card.

How could he just leave like that without telling me? He couldn't have added another line to his fucking Post-it on the mirror?

Should I be offended that he has his assistant send me flowers? How is that even at all romantic or any type of grand gesture at all?

Fuck, he could have sent a damn text message. He could have left a note on the kitchen counter. A voicemail. An email. _Anything._

Who the hell does he think he is?

I finally decide to rip open the stupid envelope. At least once I know what he has to say, then I can decide which of the many things I should be mad about and whether or not he still deserves any kind of apology from me.

_Bella,_

_I've had to go to Denver earlier than I planned. I'll be back on Friday and we'll talk then. I hope your first day went well._

_Edward_

Uh, that's it? That's all he has to say?

I don't think so! I'm not going to stew on this for another three days! He _will _talk to me, even if I have to take some extreme measures to make sure of it.

I grab my cell and quickly dial Jane.

Thank goodness she answers on the first ring.

"_Mr. Cullen's office, this is Jane. How may I help you?"_

"Jane, it's Bella again. Can you please tell me where Edward is staying in Denver?"

"_Oh, hi, Mrs. Cullen! I booked him in the Reagan Suite at the Brown Palace Hotel in Downtown Denver. He should be there by now if you need to get a hold of him."_

"Thank you, Jane!"

As I push the end button, I put my car in drive and speed off impatiently toward home.

Once I finally reach the house, I rush upstairs to fire up my laptop.

It only takes minutes to book my flight to Denver. I have two and half hours to get to the airport and at the gate for boarding.

I call a cab to drive me, not wanting to deal with parking at the airport given I have very little time to pack and make it through security if I want to make my flight.

The doorbell rings just as I've finished haphazardly throwing necessities in a bag.

As I lock the door and set the security system, my nerves kick in.

Is this the right thing to do? Will he be angry if I show up unannounced?

Once settled in the cab, I try to plan for how this will go down. By the time we've pulled into passenger drop-off, I'm ready. My speech is prepared. My plan is in place.

There is one thing I'm certain of. By tonight Edward and I _will _have talked this through. Avoidance just isn't an option any longer.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **First, I want to apologize for the delay! Second, thank you all so much for the incredible reviews and for continuing to follow this story :-)

So, Bella's off to Denver…how will Edward react when she arrives? Let's see what happens….

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 14**

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I really should have eaten before boarding this plane. This tiny bag of stale pretzels is just not helping to calm my jittery stomach.

In yet another stupid act of childish defiance on my part, I chose to forgo a first class seat and booked a spot in coach. Edward and I have only flown together twice since meeting, once for our honeymoon in France and once to a funeral for an uncle of his in Alaska. Both times Edward made arrangements for first class travel and it was wonderful.

The problem is that the real Bella is not a first class traveler. The few times I've flown in my life have been economy all the way. It's who I am. I don't _need _to fly first class, particularly not on Edward's dime when I'm thoroughly pissed off at him. It's why I booked this stupid seat in 34B sandwiched tightly between a large man who smells of tequila and another who is currently snoring in my ear.

If I could go back in time about four hours ago, I'd slap myself across the face and just book the damn first class ticket. After all, I am no longer economy Bella Swan – I'm now Bella Cullen.

Certainly, they are serving some type of proper nourishment up in first class – probably accompanied by something much more exciting than a small plastic cup of Diet Coke.

With a sigh, I lean back and try to rest my eyes for a bit. In a little over an hour from now, I'll land in Denver and I need to be in the right frame of mind. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, thoroughly wishing I had changed clothing before I left. What kind of an idiot flies in a dress and heels? Me, apparently.

I've had the past hour to think, which is clearly dangerous for my overactive imagination. In my hasty exit, I failed to properly think many things through. I've never been to Denver. Hell, I've really never been anywhere, especially not alone. I feel embarrassed and ashamed to admit that at nearly thirty years old, I'm completely terrified of travelling alone.

What do I do when I arrive? How will I find transportation when I get there? Assuming I can even get to the damn Brown Palace Hotel, what is my plan from there? Do I have the front desk announce my arrival to Edward? Do I try to sneak in for a surprise attack?

Did I pack my toothbrush and panties?

Ugh.

I should have just stayed home. In addition to my neurotic inner ramblings, I realize this spur-of-the-moment plan has some serious backfire potential. Edward _chose_ to leave early. Perhaps he needed some space. Maybe he left because he doesn't _want_ to see me right now. Maybe my surprise visit will put him on the defensive and just irritate the hell out of him. Maybe waiting until Friday to speak was the smart thing to do – that was, after all, his plan when he left. The last time we saw one another face to face, I was drunk and flinging expensive crystal. The last time he actually spoke to me, he was accusing and angry about my choices and secrets. We are certainly not on good terms at this moment.

Will my sudden appearance work out perfectly as it did in my head when I bought this plane ticket? Or am I just going to exacerbate an already tense situation?

And, _oh God_, I've been so focused on our relationship issues, I didn't even consider the fact that he's on a _business _trip. If there is one thing I know well, it's that Edward always takes his business very seriously. Oh, shit. If I just show up and mess with his business mindset and sales mojo, he's going to be seriously pissed.

Fuck.

I should have remembered to bring my iPod. At least then I could focus on some music and not be stuck in my brain with only my inner thoughts as company right now.

I also wish I had some gum in my purse. I'd definitely be shoving a piece of that into my snoring neighbor's mouth if I had some.

I'm an odd mixture of anticipation and apprehension when the pilot finally announces our descent to Denver International Airport.

Nearly twenty minutes later, when the plane first touches down on the runway, I'm near hyperventilation. I focus on breathing and trying to remain calm as we cruise slowly towards the main airport. Peeking out the window, I'm greeted with an incredible view of large open plains, covered in brown and green grass, that lead into the cityscape and a backdrop of the majestic Rockies. It's truly breathtaking. The sun has started its crawl behind the mountains. A quick peek at my cell phone shows that it's nearly 8:00 PM local time. The late summer sunset is simply beautiful.

After what seems like forever, the seatbelt light shuts off with a cheerful ding and the passengers start milling about impatiently to gather their belongings. By the time I am able to grab my small rolling suitcase from the overhead bin and start inching my way down the aisle towards the main door, I'm thoroughly frustrated, sweating heavily, and feeling the effects of an oncoming hunger headache.

I close my eyes for the briefest of moments in ecstasy when a blast of air conditioning hits me as I finally enter the airport terminal. I follow the herd of passengers assuming that the group at large probably knows where they are going. I shuffle onto an escalator to a lower level where groups of people are huddled around glass doors waiting for an underground train of some sort.

Fifteen minutes and one terrifyingly fast train ride later, I am making my way through the crowded airport following signs that say "Ground Transportation." Thankfully, a nice man at a podium points me towards a row of taxis just outside the glass doors and I finally breathe a sigh of relief that I might be able to handle this after all.

Even as the sun is quickly disappearing in the sky, I'm surprised by the intensity of the heat as I head outdoors. It's a dry heat that nearly takes my breath away, nothing at all like the warm humidity back in Seattle.

Thankfully the cab driver immediately knows where the Brown Palace is and sets off at an alarming fast speed down the highway. I had assumed that the airport would actually be right in Denver, but it seems to be located out in the middle of nowhere and it's a good thirty minutes or so before we actually make it downtown.

The cab driver expertly navigates his way through the one-way streets downtown Denver until he finally pulls up outside an old-fashioned looking brown building that is set at an odd triangular angle at the corner of the converging busy streets.

This is it. I'm here. It's time to do what I came here to do.

With a deep, cleansing breath, I roll my suitcase through the lobby, an elaborate and beautiful atrium with amazing decorative glass and lighting. Looking up, I'm stunned at how incredible this old building is – the atrium reaches up through the entire hotel, with beautiful railings circling about giving each floor a glimpse down into the massive lobby. I'm a bit shocked really. This place, clearly an historic piece of Denver history, is nothing like where I would picture my OCD, professional husband. He's all about sleek lines and minimalism – certainly not warm golds, reds, and massive chandeliers.

At the front desk, I am greeted with a tall, pretty redhead wearing a friendly smile.

"Can I help you?"

"Um…yes. My husband is staying in the Reagan Suite. Can you please tell me where I can find it?"

She looks a bit guarded, obviously trying to determine if I'm some sort of psycho trying to get classified information out of her. She clears her throat before answering.

"Uh, sure. What is your husband's name? I can confirm what room he's in."

"Edward Cullen." Her eyes light up briefly, surely she's already seen my handsome husband and fallen under his spell. Oh, lady, if you only knew the crazy workings behind that handsome face. Then again, maybe it's just me who brings out the crazy in him.

A few clicks on the computer and a short elevator ride later and I'm here, standing right outside his door.

Oh, shit. I need to knock, but I'm so afraid. What if he isn't even in there? Will he be happy to see me? Will he slam the door in my face? The last time we met in a hotel, the tables were turned and I did just that to him. I shut him out. He might do the same to me. I'm suddenly regretting how I behaved when he came for me just a few short weeks ago.

I raise my shaking hand and timidly knock three times. The anxiety has formed an acute, sharp pain in my chest, but I do my best to calm it. I've had several hours to prepare this speech. I'm ready to deliver it.

I hope.

I hear the faint sounds of rustling and movement from behind the door. I count to ten and still no answer. I know he's in there – I can hear him. Well, I hear _something. _There's someone on the other side of this door.

I knock again, this time with much greater force.

This time I count to fifteen and still no answer.

_Damn him. _Why isn't he answering? Surely at this hour there isn't much I could be interrupting.

Just as I'm pulling my fist back to bang on his door for a third time, it swings open, startling me into letting out a small shriek of surprise. I jump back slightly and throw my hand over my heart as if this will somehow calm it. It's a good two or three full seconds before I gather my wits enough to look up.

To say Edward looks shocked would be a monumental understatement. His face is frozen in a look of pure astonishment – jaw dropped open, eyes narrowed as if trying to decipher what the hell they are seeing.

He's wearing a gray t-shirt with a pair of flannel, plaid pajama pants. His feet are bare and his hair is disheveled. He looks fully alert, so I assume he hasn't fallen asleep yet. He is so beautiful, he always is. I love him, God, I really do.

"Bella?" His voice is pure disbelief. "What the hell?"

I stand still, not sure what to say for a moment. He doesn't look happy to see me. He looks like he's trying to decide if this is some figment of his imagination.

"Hi." It's all I can seem to manage to say.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice rises slightly in annoyance.

"I need to talk to you."

"What?" His brow furrows and his mouth pops open again.

"I _said _I need to talk to you." I huff in annoyance. This introduction is taking far too long for my patience.

"I heard you. How did you get here?"

"I flew, obviously."

His eyes narrow and he scowls at me. Obviously his patience is wearing a little thin as well.

"So can I come in?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

He stares at me for far too long, not speaking or moving. Suddenly, my anger is sparked anew. I'm his wife, damn it. I know I've surprised him, but fuck, this isn't quite how I would expect him to react. I know we aren't on the best of terms right now, so I wasn't expecting any grand gestures or for him to break out into show tunes or something, but he could at least try to form an articulate sentence or two.

After what feels like an eternity, he steps aside and pulls the door open wider in invitation.

I step into the suite, not even bothering to look around. I wheel my suitcase off to the side and then turn around to face him once again.

"You shouldn't have come here. If you wanted to talk, why didn't you just call?"

I flinch back at his harsh tone.

"I wanted to surprise you." I feel my traitor lip tremble and I swallow thickly. I have important words to say here and I'll be damned if I my emotions get the best of me before I can get them out.

"Surprise me or catch me off guard?" he hisses back. The level of anger in his voice causes me to gasp in hurt surprise.

I narrow my eyes at him and I'm sure my scowl matches his in intensity at this point.

"Look, I have some things I want to say. Just let me talk and then I'll leave if you want me to. I'm sorry my presence here is so unwelcome, but we need to talk and we're going to do it whether you like it or not, Edward." I take a deep breath to calm down. This conversation will never work if we're both spitting out heated words in anger. No, we need to talk rationally and so far all we've done is piss each other off.

How did this happen to us? It's like the last two weeks of bliss never even happened. This was such a mistake. Obviously my fears about coming here and cornering him into speaking with me were well founded. I want to kick myself for thinking this was a good idea. Fuck, I just want my husband back. I want to erase the past 24 hours and go back to my happy, honeymoon bubble.

"Fine. Let's talk."

He sighs heavily before walking further into the living room area of the suite and sitting in an overstuffed gold and red chair. I follow his lead and sit at a matching loveseat. Between us is a large claw foot coffee table that holds his laptop and three neatly stacked piles of documents. It looks as though I've interrupted his work, clearly adding to his frustration.

I look over at him. His arms are crossed over his chest and he's looking at me with raised eyebrows, as if to tell me to get on with it.

"Edward, I…," I break off and take a deep breath before continuing.

My whole body is trembling. I've thought all day about what to say to him, but the words seem to be stuck in my throat. Fuck, I feel like crying again. Why is this so hard? I had counted on my anger providing me the motivation to get it all out, but the anger has given way to a great sadness. I just want everything to be right again. We've overcome so much in the past few weeks. I finally had what I wanted within my grasp and I can feel it slipping away yet again. Too many challenges. Too many mistakes. Too many of the right words not being said.

As I begin my speech, I can't look him in the eye. I don't want to see his anger, his frustration, or his disappointment. Those same eyes looked at me with such love just a day ago. I just want to say the right words to get that back – to feel that love again.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I…I should have told you I was looking for a job. I should have told you I had scheduled the interview. And, shit, I'm so sorry for my behavior last night in the dining room. But I also want you to know that you hurt me by how you reacted. I just wanted you to be happy for me, to be proud of me. I totally get that you were upset I didn't talk to you beforehand, but you told me you had no problem with me getting a job. I don't understand why it made you so angry. And I can't believe I had to find out from your secretary that you left early to come here. I can't even tell you how much it hurts that you rearranged your trip just to avoid me and then couldn't even tell me about it."

My words are rushed and frantic. In my visions of this scene, I was staring him right in the eye and speaking calmly, yet with absolute conviction. In reality, I sound near hysterical by the time I'm done speaking. I huff with both annoyance and satisfaction – it didn't come out like I'd planned, but at least I've said what I wanted to say.

I finally chance a look at him only to find his face blank and emotionless. His arms remain crossed in a defensive pose and his eyes are trained on the coffee table. He doesn't even give an indication as to whether or not he even heard me. The seconds tick by and his non-reaction is making me feel foolish and suffocated. Why isn't he saying anything? I just want him to at least acknowledge me.

Suddenly he blows out a harsh breath that causes his entire body to sag. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head hanging. It's such a sad look, defeated almost.

His eyes meet mine.

"Why didn't you tell me about the interview?" he asks softly.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. It definitely matters."

I chew on my bottom lip.

"Um, I don't really know why."

"Bullshit." He narrows his eyes and levels a hard stare at me.

I know this is where that whole communication thing comes in. I don't really want to go into details about this with him, but I came here to talk and I suppose that means I need to just lay it all out there.

"I…I didn't want you to see me fail if it didn't work out." I look away and feel my face heat up. I feel vulnerable and I hate it. I hate having to put myself out there like this.

"What?" he asks in shock. "That doesn't make any sense." He looks completely bewildered.

"Yes, it does, Edward. I just…" I pause, not knowing how to explain this so he'll understand. "Edward, you're successful in every way. I'm nothing but a trophy wife. Since we got married, I've had no real independence and I've really accomplished nothing. This was something I wanted to do on my own. I didn't want you to interfere or something." My chest tightens. "And…I was afraid that if I couldn't find a job or bombed an interview or something I would have been mortified to have to tell you."

I look down at my shaking hands. "Sometimes I feel so inferior to you. I hate feeling like that. You're a CEO. I'm not. I don't contribute anything to our marriage. I hate feeling so dependent on you."

I look at his face. He's chewing on the inside of his cheek and shaking his head slightly. Honestly, he looks pissed again. Fuck, I just can't seem to ever get this right. I'm always leaving him angry or confused. Will we ever just be on the same page for once?

"That is such crap, Bella." His voice is quiet, but forceful. "I can't even begin to tell you how much of what you just said I take offense to."

He sits back and his hands fist at his thighs. His breath is ragged.

"For one thing, have I ever done or said anything to you to make you feel inferior to me? I love you. For who you _are._ Money, career, all the other stuff is completely inconsequential in the matter. I am a CEO, yes, and I know I let that define me far too much. Look where it's gotten me. I may make a shitload of money, but I've had no personal life up until now. I mean, I had to create a fucking contract just to get you to marry me, for God's sake. So don't for one second think any of that should matter in the future of our marriage. And how could you possibly think I would interfere in your job search or look down on you for how a fucking interview would go? Do you really think that little of me? I thought you trusted me. I thought you knew me better than that. You say you hate feeling dependent on me, but how does that even make sense? You've lived off of my money for over four years now with no problem. Why would it start to matter now?"

He shakes his head again in disgust. I just sit there, aghast. I can't believe he's just said that. It feels like a knife ripping through my chest.

"I lived off of your money because I signed a contract telling me to. It matters now because I want to be your fucking equal. I don't want to be a gold-digger. I know what people must say about me. I hate that it looks like I just married you for your money." My voice has risen, I'm sure my face is red from the fury I'm feeling.

He stares at me with a furious look, his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched.

Suddenly, his features soften ever so slightly and his eyes close. It's a few long moments before they open again filled with an emotion I don't quite recognize. Is it pity? I hope not. Maybe it's just sadness.

His words are softer when he finally speaks again.

"It's not fair for you to project those things onto me. You feel insecure about the money thing, but that's in your head, not mine. I don't give a shit about the money. I know you aren't a gold digger. You know you aren't a gold digger. Why would we care what anyone else thinks about it?"

I remain silent, staring at my hands. I don't know how to explain it. I know other's opinions shouldn't matter, but the fact is they do. This is the real world and in the real world appearances to matter.

I hear, rather than see him standing. I feel the cushions beside me on the sofa dip and I feel his warmth close to me as he sits.

"Please look at me," he pleads softly.

It takes a moment for me to gather the courage, but eventually I raise my eyes to his.

"Bella, I am happy for you. I'm happy you found the job and it sounds like it's something you'll enjoy. I just want to make sure you're doing it for the right reasons – because you _want_ to, not because you feel like you need to prove something to me or anyone else. The fact of the matter is that you don't _have _to work. I'm not saying this because I want you to feel dependent on me. I'm saying it because your happiness means everything to me. I want you to have the freedom and flexibility to spend your time doing something that you love. If it's this job, then great. If it's something crazy, like, I don't know, candle making or something, then that's great too. But please don't ever feel like you are anything less than my equal. This isn't a competition, Bella. Money, titles – none of that matters. The most important thing should be that we love each other and support each other."

He reaches out and gently takes my hand in his.

"If this has any chance of working, we have to learn to communicate with each other. You need to learn to trust me and know that you can talk to me about stuff like this." He sighs. "And I'm sorry about not telling you about coming to Denver early. You were right, I shouldn't have done that. And for the love of God, Bella, if you're going to fly across country, please tell me or someone before you go. It kills me to think of what could have happened to you and nobody even knew where you were."

I laugh slightly as his over-protective nature comes out.

"Well, for what it's worth, I fully admit that hopping on a plane without much planning was probably not the best idea. It was actually kind of terrifying not to know where I'd get a cab and all that. Ugh. And my seat placement on the plane certainly left much to be desired." I shudder to think about my stressful trip with tequila-man and mouth-breather.

I sigh in relief as his thumb gently strokes my hand. His touch feels so good.

"Edward, the problem is I don't know what will make me happy. I want to try this job and see where it leads. I need something to do while you're at work. I need something that's just mine."

His whole body seems to relax with his smile. His hand reaches up and his fingers leave a gentle, heated trail from my temple to my jaw before coming to a rest cupping my neck. I lean into the touch, thankful that the worst of this storm seems to be over. We're back in safe territory and I can feel the exhaustion settle in after such an emotional exchange. His green eyes are shining, looking at me with an intensity that makes me feel warm inside.

"Then I fully support you. Just…please don't shut me out anymore."

"I won't," I reply, a soft, breathy murmur.

My eyes drift down to his lips.

I want to kiss him.

I want to feel him.

I want to feel connected to him again. I want to open myself up to him again.

This latest battle has only lasted a mere twenty-four hours, but it feels like forever since I've felt the warmth and safety of being in his arms.

God, it's been weeks since I've felt his skin against mine.

I know he's been waiting for me. I know I've been waiting for the right time, waiting for us to be in a safe and happy place.

I have no fucking clue how I would even go about defining what the "right time" is, but I just know that right now, in this moment, I need to feel his touch. Maybe this is it – the right moment.

I lean forward slightly, making my intentions clear. I _think_ we've moved on from the anger and sadness, but I'm not always sure with Edward. Years of hiding behind his cold mask have made him so difficult to read. The whiplash of not knowing where I have stood throughout our marriage has left me always second-guessing, always trying to figure out what's going on behind those beautiful eyes of his.

He shifts ever so slightly. Not away, not forward, but just a barely there movement opening himself up to me. His eyes dart down to my lips quickly – barely noticeable. He wants this too.

It's all the invitation I need.

When our lips finally meet, it's soft and subtle. There is no urgency, no fight – it's soft caresses, gentle touches, and feather-light movements. My insides burn with the intensity of emotion behind it. After a few moments, the urge to touch becomes too much for me – I want to feel his body pressed against mine. I want to feel the strength of his arms, the power of our mouths opening to one another.

Deciding that our awkward, side-by-side arrangement on the sofa is just not going to work, I end the kiss and bravely slide closer to him, slowly moving one leg over his lap until I'm where I want to be. His breath hitches and his arms reflexively wind around my body, pulling me closer until we are chest to chest. My hands slide slowly up his chest before wrapping around his neck, pulling our faces so close I can feel and taste his breath mixing with mine.

It's all so new and overwhelming. When I look in his eyes, I see no doubts, no fears. This is how it should be – man and wife coming together, nothing between them. I know we'll have more obstacles, I know we'll have more fights and more misunderstandings. Even with a long history, we're both new to this. We're both inexperienced in giving our hearts fully, but I can only hope we'll get there.

I know we have a lot to learn about trust and love.

But tonight, I just want to focus on where we are, not where we've been or where we need to be.

His arms are so warm, his body so firm. With one arm firmly holding my body to his, the other hand slides up my back, past my neck and tangling in my hair. I can't stop the involuntary shiver that flows through my body at the movement.

"Edward, I love you," I murmur before closing my eyes and melting into his embrace.

"As I love you." I feel his whispered words against my lips just before they meet.

Our kiss is slow, sensual, deep – tasting each other, breathing into each other, the feel of his tongue dancing against mine. My body is on fire as I finally pull away to gasp for air. As his lips leave a heated trail down my neck, I can't resist the urge to move my body against his. Oh, he's hard and wanting and just _right there_ and I cry out at the pleasure. His hands tighten and a soft moan escapes him as our bodies slide against one another.

When I reclaim his lips, the fight for slow and gentle is lost in favor of heated and passionate. I can't wait any longer. I need more, I need the intensity. I reach down and grasp blindly for the hem of my dress, gripping and pulling it over my head in one swift movement. I see the moment realization dawns on his beautiful face that this is much more than a little make out session. His eyes are hooded with lust as he gazes at my body. I have a moment of insecurity when I realize I'm in nothing more than plain white panties and bra, but the look in his eyes quickly quells my fears – his heated gaze makes me feel beautiful and loved. Suddenly, I feel his hands everywhere, soft but purposeful touches to every part of my body.

I reach for his t-shirt, tugging it up and off his body before exploring his chest and the hard muscles and soft hair. His hands reach around to unclasp my bra, slowly sliding it down my bare shoulders before tossing it to the side. I arch my back into his soft caresses of my breasts, sliding my body against the hardness below me to help ease the ache between my legs.

The heat and passion of the moment is so intense. It's never been like this before for us. I've felt his hands on my body, but never with love behind it. It's always been about two people needing to satisfy some carnal urge – never about two lovers baring their souls.

His fingers slip into the edge of my panties and in some kind of crazy acrobatic move, we manage to get them off while I remain on his lap. As he lifts up, we slip off his pajama bottoms together.

I've only ever given my body to him in the dark of our bedroom, with him on top of me, controlling the movement. This is new. This is different. This should have been our first time, knowing that it's love bringing us together.

Fully exposed in a well-lit room, I lower myself onto him, gasping at the intense pleasure of feeling him inside me. It's raw passion and pleasure as our bodies move, rocking back and forth, giving and taking. Our hands move, touching and teasing and feeling. Our bodies are soft and gleaming with sweat as we move against each other.

All too soon, I feel myself tensing and aching for release, but I try to push it back. I'm not ready for this to end, I'm not ready to release the pressure that's building – it just feels too good to be over so soon. I concentrate on the sound of his breathing, the soft moans that escape him. I throw my head back and shut my eyes, savoring the feeling of him – on me, in me, everywhere.

"No, baby, look at me." His hoarse, breathy voice pulls me back.

Our eyes meet in the single most intimate moment I've ever experienced.

Suddenly it becomes too much and I let go, letting the pleasure take over. We come together, crying out and shaking against each other, never breaking eye contact.

My entire body is aching and spent as the final waves pass and I fall against him, burying my face in his neck, rising and falling with each breath he takes. He wraps his arms tightly around me and I feel so content in the feeling of warmth and safety.

How long we stay like this, just breathing and holding each other, I have no idea. It could be seconds, it could be minutes.

The spell is broken by an obnoxious growling of my stomach.

_Stupid fucking airplane pretzels. _

Edward barks out a loud, ridiculous laugh and soon I'm giggling right along with him.

Our beautiful little bubble is broken, but we're still okay – we're here, no one is running, no fighting or hiding.

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**A/N: Sooo…thoughts? I'd love to hear from you!**

**By the way, I entered the 80's Power Ballad Contest! Check out my profile for the link and then read and vote for your favorite entry :-) **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Thank you for reading, rec'ing, and reviewing this story – I can't tell you how excited I am about the response it has been getting! You guys seriously rock my world :-)

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 15**

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I can't sleep.

After devouring a room service cheeseburger, fries, and a piece of chocolate mousse cake in a very unlady-like manner right in front of my amused husband, we had showered separately and climbed into bed.

I had been rather disappointed when he didn't try to initiate round two of loving. The atmosphere between us was not quite awkward, but still harbored a small amount of heaviness that hung in the air between us.

I'm not quite sure what I expected.

Sex doesn't solve everything. I know this.

One conversation doesn't fix everything. I know the issues we are experiencing will come up again. I know we'll have to talk further.

I'm an impatient person, obviously. This thought makes me snort in amusement quietly, as it is really quite stupid, given the fact that I had waited years for this relationship we are so haphazardly navigating through to finally develop. I clearly have some degree of patience, but apparently I just pick and choose what to use it on.

Hence the fact that I am lying awake in a Denver hotel room at 2 o'clock in the morning.

Had I been a bit more patient, I would be at home in my own warm bed right now. Although I certainly can't regret coming here so hastily. Our talk was eye-opening. And of course the sex was incredible.

But now I can't sleep.

Because I am, as usual, a neurotic, over-thinking mess. I can't stop wondering why, for example, Edward didn't invite me to shower with him. Although we've never really done that before, so I can't really dwell too much on it. I also ponder the fact that, aside from a chaste kiss goodnight and the throwing of his heavy arm over my waist before he succumbed to sleep, he made no other moves of intimacy. Again, I'm just being neurotic. He's probably just exhausted – he did, after all, fly across country today, as well as work for several hours, only to have his peaceful evening interrupted by his crazy wife.

It's also really fucking cold in here. As dry and hot as it had been outside earlier, I can't believe how cold and clammy it feels here indoors. The air is different – thinner and lighter somehow and it makes breathing feel odd and labored, like I just can't get enough oxygen. I want to find the thermostat and turn the air conditioning off, but the thought of leaving the warmth of the covers makes me shiver.

It only takes another two or three minutes of freezing, over-analyzing, and tossing and turning before I realize that sleep just isn't going to happen naturally tonight.

A hot, steamy bath. That's exactly what I need.

Thankfully, this is a rather large suite and I have faith I can somehow maneuver about the rooms without waking Edward.

Bracing myself for the cold, I shove the covers off and slip out from under Edward's arm and tiptoe my way toward large bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, my now relaxed and over-heated body welcomes the blast of cool air as I leave the steamy bathroom. I'm still not sleepy enough to return to bed. Peeking over at the bed, I see Edward is still fast asleep and has barely changed positions. I wish I could wake him to keep me company, but I know he has to work tomorrow and this is a very important trip for him.

Sighing, I glance about the room hoping for some inspiration on how to pass the time. Across from the foot of the bed is an antique-style chest of drawers, on top of which are Edward's cell phone, wallet, a key card, and a pill bottle of some sort. Curious, I walk over to see what on earth a pill bottle would be doing there. I want to reach over and flick Edward on the forehead when I see what it is – an over the counter sleep aid, something that certainly would have come in handy for me hours ago. A fleeting memory of him taking sleeping medicine on our honeymoon filters through my mind. Oh, that seems so long ago now, as if from a past life. I vaguely recall him stating something about having trouble sleeping in hotels. I pour a couple of the pills into my palm and then head off to the sitting room in search of something to wash it down.

Flipping mindlessly through television channels, sitting in the very spot that Edward and I had made love just hours earlier, the sleep aid finally kicks in about thirty minutes later. Never having taken it before, I realize I probably should have settled on half a dose or something because I suddenly feel as though my limbs are made of lead and my brain seems to be moving in slow motion. Fuck, that hit me much harder and faster than I ever would have imagined possible.

I glance back at the doorway leading toward the bedroom and contemplate the odds of actually making it back to bed before falling over or stubbing my toe on something in my drug-induced haze. It's not a hard decision. The thought of walking is just out of the question and it takes what little strength I have left to just pull my legs up on the sofa and lie my head down on the fancy little throw pillow.

Just as I'm about to give into the intense need to close my eyes, my focus momentarily lands on the piles of paper surrounding Edward's laptop on the coffee table. Neatly stacked, they look at first glance like simple work documents – printed emails, spreadsheets, and a few text documents.

But the footer of one bundle of papers held together with a binder clip catches my eye.

I can't see the document itself in the dim light – only about an inch or two at the bottom of the paper. I see that it is labeled "Confidential" and dated.

I know that date.

August 23, 2007.

My breath hitches.

Surely, it must be a coincidence, right?

I reach my heavy arm out and clumsily snag the document between my forefinger and thumb, pulling it closer for a better look.

My suspicion is confirmed.

There, in my hand, is a printed copy of our prenuptial agreement, signed and notarized on August 23, 2007, exactly one month before our wedding.

What the fuck?

Why does he have that here? What could he possibly need that for?

Null and void, my ass!

There's no printer in this room, so I can only assume that he had printed it before he left and packed it with some intention or purpose.

Oh, the possibilities and scenarios! He left Seattle early. And he brought a copy of our prenup with him for whatever reason. And he was obviously doing _something _with it when I arrived, or it would be safely tucked away in a suitcase or briefcase somewhere, right?

Oh, my brain hurts. Too much medicine. Too much thinking. I'm just done for the night. I clutch the agreement to my chest, too tired at the moment to even try to put it back where it was and hide the evidence of my snooping.

I'm just too tired. I can't dwell on this. I'll ask him tomorrow. We'll talk about this before my overactive imagination takes hold and spins out of control and we end up taking another three steps back in our progress.

"_If this has any chance of working, we have to learn to communicate with each other. You need to learn to trust me…"_

Edward's words from earlier play over in my mind. Oh, I want to trust him. I want to know how to talk to him. I want this to work. But stupid shit like finding this fucking contract wedges itself into my brain and I end up second guessing everything. This pattern has to stop!

My eyes flutters shut, unable to fight the battle any longer. Thank God sleep is finally here. My neurotic inner voice, clearly out to torture me one last time before I succumb, makes one last horrific announcement, which plagues my dreams the rest of the night.

_Maybe he's giving up. Maybe he's leaving you._

~~~~ATA~~~~

"Bella, baby, wake up."

A soft whisper near my ear pulls me from a dream. I can't recall what I was dreaming, but the general feeling of uneasiness from whatever horrors my subconscious thoughts were conjuring up remain.

I feel a warm hand push gently at my shoulder.

I'm exhausted. Why can't I just sleep? Maybe if I ignore the intrusion it will disappear.

"Bella!"

The voice is louder this time and the hand pushes more intently.

I raise my fist to push it away, but find my hand is occupied, clutched tightly around something.

God, my brain is so foggy. Fucking pills! I should have just sat up all night instead of trying to take the easy way out. This feeling is horrendous – I can still feel the sleeping medicine coursing through my veins, willing me to go back to sleep.

Without opening my eyes, I try to roll over. I just want to go back to sleep. Is that too much to ask?

The warm hand is still there, only now it is pinning me in place. Fuck! Why can't it just leave me alone?

"Bella, wake up!"

The obnoxiousness of the loud voice near my ear finally pulls me into full consciousness and my eyes fly open in surprise.

It takes a few seconds to focus in the morning light. As I blink away the fogginess in my eyes, I finally focus on Edward's amused face where he is kneeling just inches from me. He appears freshly showered and fully dressed.

"Hi," I whisper, still squinting to adjust to my surroundings. My brain, still trying to work through my drug-induced stupor, is still confused as to where I am and how I got here. This is nearly as bad as being drunk, but thankfully without a pounding skull.

Edward offers a tiny smile before lowering to softly kiss my forehead. With a sigh, my eyes flutter shut at the show of affection.

My eyes reopen as he pulls back.

"Why are you out here?" he asks, cocking his head to the side, looking at me quizzically.

"Huh?" Out where? What is he talking about?

"Why are you on the couch?"

Oh.

"I couldn't sleep. I found your sleeping medicine and took a couple and I guess this is where I passed out." I lick my dry lips. "What time is it?"

He looks horrified. "You took two? Did you even read the bottle? An adult dose is one pill. It even mentions something about cutting them in half if they're too strong. Are you feeling alright?"

I just shrug in response, feeling incredibly stupid. That certainly explains why they practically put me in a damn coma.

He sighs in frustration, shaking his head at me slightly. I smile up at him and suppress a giggle at the stern look on his face. Although annoying at times, I have to admit I love his overprotective side.

He looks down at my chest and his eyebrows pull together in confusion. "What's that?" he asks, nodding his head towards my hands, which are fisted up near my chin.

"What's what?" I look down and find that I'm clutching several sheets of paper in my hands. And just like that, the memory returns.

_The agreement._ Oh, fuck. This was why I was so upset last night – why my dreams were plagued with unease and fear.

I feel my face heating up in both shame and fear. The shame of having to admit that I looked at his papers. The fear of not knowing what his answers will be when I ask him about this. I don't want to talk about this. Not now. Not after last night. I remember the feeling of his arms around me, chest to chest, the sweetness of what we had shared. If I ask about this now, those moments will be overshadowed and lost. I'm not ready to give them up. We were happy for a moment. Why can't we ever just fucking stay like that?

But I need to know why he had this here. I don't want to doubt us anymore. My poor neurotic brain can't handle any more uncertainty.

If he's thinking of leaving me, I want to know.

My fist is tight and cramped from clutching the papers all night. Deciding just to get it over with, my hand juts out, thrusting the agreement at him.

Still confused, he grabs it from me and looks at it, his face dawning recognition a second later.

"I saw that last night when I laid down here. Why do you have that here? I thought we agreed to forget about the prenup." I'm surprised by how calm I sound.

Edward places his palms on the sofa in front of me and pushes himself to standing, stretching his arms above his head with a slight groan. I hear a faint crackle, which I assume are the bones in back releasing from the stretch.

It's an oddly casual movement and it catches me off guard. I mean, come on – I found something that caused me to freak out and he's stretching about as if I've said something completely mundane, like ask him about the damn weather. What the fuck?

He reaches down and lifts my legs up before sliding beneath them to sit, placing them in his lap when he's finally settled. He glances over at me. His expression is suddenly nervous.

"Last week, I called my lawyer to see what we need to do to dissolve the agreement. I didn't quite think through all the technicalities of what that would entail. It's a legally-binding document and we can't just tear it up – we actually need to meet with him and petition to dissolve it or something like that. I was going to talk to you about this sometime this week, but then…well, you know…we were kind of occupied by other things the past couple of days. Anyway, I was reading through it to make sure we weren't missing anything before we voided it in its entirety."

"I don't understand. Are you saying there might be parts of it you want to remain in effect?" I'm horrified at the thought! Terms and conditions just don't belong in a real marriage, right?

"No! No, not at all. It's just that there's a lot of fine print in there. I don't want a prenup. I honestly and truly don't. But _you_ might. I think it's worth us discussing. There are some things I think you should think about before you sign everything away in that document. There are a lot of clauses in there that protect you financially if you ever wanted to leave. If we ever split up, that document would probably provide you more financial support than a typical Washington divorce would. I would just feel better if we talked it through before completely dissolving it. I don't want you to ever feel like you won't be financially supported in the event something happens with us."

All I can do is stare at him. I'm oddly both touched and offended at the same time. On the surface, I understand his reasoning, but something feels off. Could he be lying about his reasoning? Could it be possible he actually wants to have a prenup in place? It is, after all, his life's work and fortune on the line should we actually split up someday. He says I might want one, but let's be honest – I came into this relationship with nothing and I've never expected to leave with more than that should the time ever come, regardless of what that fucking contract says. I don't want his money. I want our marriage to work.

"_You have to learn to trust me…"_

Again, his words come back to me. Yes, I need to learn to trust him. Much easier said than done.

I hate the thought that we have to have a conversation about the potential of our marriage failing. It's a topic I just don't want to talk about right now.

With a sigh, I smile at him in what I hope is a reassuring manner.

"Let's talk about it when you get back. I think I might understand this better when my body's not trying to metabolize too many sleeping pills."

He stares at me contemplatively for a moment. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he simply nods in response.

I pull my legs from his lap and move to stand. My body feels like jelly and the movement takes much more effort that I would have imagined. Finally on my feet, I repeat Edward's earlier actions, stretching and groaning in pleasure when my muscles and bones react. Sleeping on a sofa has done no favors to my thirty-year-old body.

Edward gazes up at me as I look down at him. He's wearing a light green polo shirt that makes his eyes sparkle like emeralds. His khaki pants are pressed neatly and he looks amazing as usual. I, on the other hand, am in rumpled pink cotton and probably look a mess. He is dressed awfully casually for whatever business acquisition or merger he is to be working on. Thinking about his plans for the day reminds me that I need to make travel arrangements. I am expected back at work tomorrow. Ugh, the thought of another afternoon of travel makes me want to pop a few more of Edward's pills and hide somewhere.

He stands gracefully and pulls me by the hand toward him, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me impossibly close. He smells wonderful – all Edward and freshness and cologne. I breathe him in, memorizing the scent, knowing we will be parting ways soon and I won't see him again for at least another day.

"I have to go," he says softly against my neck, his warm breath igniting an involuntary shiver.

"I do too. I have to work tomorrow again, so I should probably head back soon."

He breaks the embrace, kissing me softly on the lips, before pulling back to look at me.

"Did you have your ticket and everything sorted out?" he asks.

I shake my head with a grimace. Nope, this wasn't exactly a well planned vacation.

"I'll have Jane book you a flight and make sure you have transportation to the airport," he says, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.

As he's punching buttons, I get a little bit choked up. This is one of those moments where caring and overprotective Edward wreaks havoc on my girly emotions. Sure, I can book my own flight and get myself back home without his help. I managed quite nicely yesterday. But it's still nice to have him here to take the lead. It's nice to be taken care of, as much as I resist it out of principal.

"What are you doing today?" I ask, still curious about his rather un-Edward like appearance this morning.

His face is comical as it pulls into a full look of disgust.

"Golf. I have a fucking tee-time in an hour with the CEO of Mile High Data Hosting and a couple of his minions." The look of horror on his face intensifies and he shakes his head with a shudder.

I slap my hand over my mouth to hold in the involuntary laughter that escapes.

I may not know everything about Edward, but there is a whole wealth of information I do know, much of which has been gathered through observation over the course of our marriage.

One such tidbit of information I've happened upon is that Edward absolutely _hates_ any type of outdoor activity, with an extra special loathing of the game of golf. For such a type-A personality with a splash of OCD and controlling nature, standing around on mosquito-wielding grass, surrounded by dirt, in the sun for several hours is just not his cup of tea. Edward is the type of guy who loves running, but will only do so on an indoor treadmill for fear of dirt, dog attacks, strangers, tripping, muggings, sudden inclement weather or really anything else that may come up.

Edward, clearly not amused that I find his plans for the day so comical, purses his lips and raises an eyebrow at me.

Of course, this only causes me to giggle harder.

His face softens and he smiles a genuine smile. He reaches up and pulls my face to his for a passionate kiss.

"I love hearing you laugh," he whispers against my lips. "I'm glad you came to Denver."

My lips quirk up, smiling through my laughter.

"Me too."

~~~~ATA~~~~

Seated in a poorly padded chair waiting for my flight to be called, I'm sad as I glance around. This is the first and possibly only visit to Denver I'll have and I didn't actually see nor do anything. For a girl with limited travel experience, it's disappointing. I didn't even get a damn souvenir. By the time I had showered, dressed, and ate my room service breakfast after Edward left for his golf game, the car was already waiting for me.

I pull my cell phone out of my purse realizing I hadn't even looked at it since I left yesterday. I'm shocked to see several missed calls – four from Rose and two from Alice.

There's also a text message from Edward from an hour ago.

_I love you._

Simple words, but they mean so much. I swear I've smiled more this morning that I have in days.

I panic when I see that the calls from Alice were from 3:30 in the morning. Holy shit! I hope everything is alright. My crazy brain immediately starts imagining the worst, especially when I call her back three times with no answer.

I dial Rose in hopes that she'll know what's going on. She sounds pissed when she finally answers, offering no greeting.

"_Well, well, well…you finally call me back. Where the hell have you been?" _

"It's a long story. I'm in Denver right now waiting to fly back to Seattle."

"_What? Why the hell are you in Denver?"_

"I'll tell you all about it later tonight. I only have a few minutes before my flight boards. Hey, what's up with Alice? I had missed calls from her and now I can't get a hold of her."

"_Oh, don't worry. She was just drunk dialing. She called me too at like three o'clock in the morning going on and on about how she wanted to fuck a cowboy or some shit like that. I didn't understand most of what she said."_

"Fuck a cowboy? What does that mean?"

"_Your guess is as good as mine. You know Alice, it could mean anything."_

"Huh. I hope she's alright."

"_Her cousin was with her and assured me they were home safe before I let them hang up. I bet they're just passed out on the floor or something."_

"Oh, thank God."

"_Rosie! Bring me some toilet paper!" _Emmett's voice booms out somewhere in the background. I can't help but snort.

"_What the fuck, Emmett! I'm on the phone!"_ Rose tries to muffle her shouting, but is unsuccessful.

"_Yeah, well I'm on the shitter and I need toilet paper."_ Leave it to Emmett to not care who the hell knows about his bathroom habits.

"_God! I have to go, Bells. Oh! The reason I had called you was that we're having a barbecue on Saturday afternoon. You and your crazy hubby need to come. Some of Emmett's cousins and some guys from the shop are coming too. It'll be fun."_

"That sounds fun! We'll be there."

"_Awesome. Call me when you get home and we'll chat. Love you, girl."_

"Love you too."

Suddenly exhausted, I lay my head back and close my eyes. God, I hope I have a better seat this time around. I'd love to take a nap during the flight.

An eternity later, they finally make the boarding call for the Seattle flight. Gathering my things, I make the bittersweet walk toward the gate. I'm happy to be going home, but I wish I wasn't alone.

I love the thought that right now, as I'm headed home, we're in a good place. For the moment, there's no drama, no fights, no secrets. Hopefully, it will stay that way.

**A/N:**

I'd love to hear from you to know what you thought! Some new experiences are coming up for Bella and Edward – we'll get to see them interact with some other people. It should prove interesting :-)

I know a lot of you are looking for an EPOV, so here's your chance! I am donating an EPOV from Amending the Arrangement to Fandom for Texas Wildfire Relief. Check out my profile for the link to their site – just a $5 donation gets you an awesome compilation. Make sure to vote in the poll on my profile page for which EPOV you'd like to see!

Also, thank you so much to all who read and voted in the 80's Power Ballad Contest. My submission, We Belong Together, won 3rd in the public vote! I've posted it on my profile, along with a link to the awesome banner made by Cristag_banner, so check it out :-)

By the way, you can find me on twitter (at)venusenvy626 – I'm a bit technologically behind, but am slowing getting into the twitter thing, so come and chat with me :-)


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter…real life has just kicked me right in the ass the past couple of months. Thankfully, things have calmed down and future updates should come much faster! :-)

I would like to thank WTF Am I Doing for prereading this chapter for me. She recently interviewed me for Twi-Muses, which was tons of fun and I'm so glad I got to chat with her because she is super awesome :-) Make sure to check their blog for the interview – it should be up soon!

Thank you so much for sticking with this story and for all the reviews and recommendations – you guys are so awesome! As ever, I'd love to know what you think and I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 16**

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It's late afternoon when I make my way through Sea-Tac toward my awaiting car. Bless Edward and Jane for having this return trip much better planned than I would have done myself.

I shall never again question the benefits of first class travel, nor will I ever feel guilty for enjoying it as one of the perks of being Mrs. Cullen.

A rather severe looking gentleman in a black suit and sunglasses picks me up in a luxury Lincoln Town Car and although I'm completely exhausted and can feel my eyelids drooping, I refuse to fall asleep during the smooth ride home. I'm certain the driver is trustworthy and very good at his job as he is employed at Edward's preferred and frequently used car service, but he has yet to smile or speak more than one word at a time and quite frankly the fact that he is wearing sunglasses while it is overcast and drizzling is rather unnerving. Can he really see well enough with them on when it is this gloomy out?

Luckily, we make it home unscathed and I nearly collapse on the sofa after I've wheeled my suitcase into the front room. I dial Rose and groggily provide an abbreviated version of my Denver trip and the events leading up to it. She responds with a few choice expletives in all the right places and a carefully neutral point of view that both Edward and I were in the wrong on the whole job thing. She's right, that's for sure. We've both made our fair share of mistakes time and time again and this was no exception. A finalization of barbeque plans for Saturday and a quick goodbye follow. Almost immediately after hitting the "end" button on my phone, my eyes close against my will, no doubt the product of two days filled with travel, stress, and sleep deprivation.

Within moments, I'm out cold in a deep and dreamless sleep.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Something startles me awake and my body jolts up with surprise, my eyes wide and taking in my surroundings. Was it a noise?

Holy shit! It's dark and eerily silent, only the tick tock of the grandfather clock. I feel so disoriented…what time is it?

I blink and rub at my eyes as they adjust to the darkness. My poor back! It aches in protest at once again being forced to sleep on a sofa.

I grab at my purse on the coffee table and pull out my phone to check the time.

It's only nine o'clock. I've slept for a good four hours or so, but my poor body and mind are still exhausted.

I should really eat something. The last real meal I had was my room service breakfast.

With a yawn, I feel around blindly until I somehow manage to flip on the lamp on the side table beside the table, illuminating the room in a warm, golden glow. I squint at the assault on my eyes, blinking rapidly against the change in light.

I'm in that strange disorientated state of sleeping mid-day and being alone in this big house. I feel so…I can't find the right word. Empty? Unbalanced? Lonely? Sad? I just feel as if something is off.

I groggily make my way to the kitchen and throw together a sandwich and without even sitting, I stand at the counter and power through it as quickly as possible. I'm still so tired. I just want to get upstairs and lie back down.

I hate being alone f. I'm used to quiet, lonely days with only brief interactions with the housekeeper and my occasional outings with Rose, but to be alone at night is strange. It's dark and quiet and I feel like an adolescent as I peer around me, not sure which I'm more afraid of – the eerie sounds and groans of the house settling or the silence and darkness in between them.

Rinsing my plate and grabbing a bottle of water to take with me, I return to the front room to reclaim my suitcase and purse and head upstairs to our bedroom.

I quickly unpack, not bothering to do much other than throw my clothing into the hamper and return my toiletries to their proper places.

A quick shower later and I'm huddled under the blankets, staring out into the darkness anxiously. This house is huge. It's so odd to think that in this sprawling property, I'm the only person f and I'm only taking up this tiny space in the bed.

I miss Edward.

I can't help but start to over think and analyze as I usually do. We've come so far. We've just battled yet another obstacle.

I think we're ok.

But here in the darkness, my loneliness gives way to those doubts yet again.

The sheets are cold against my skin. In the darkness, every tiny sound around me is amplified. I can hear the low hum of appliances, the ticking of a clock in another room, the occasional groan and creak of the house, and the smattering of rain drops as they hit the panes of glass of the grand windows in the room.

It's maddening. I feel like a child admitting it, but it's also mildly terrifying. Stuck in this big, empty house, my mind starts imagining the types of things that could be lurking at any one of the many dark corners around me.

I want to hear his voice.

I glance at the clock. It's just after ten. He's an hour ahead of me. I wonder what he's doing right now. Is he sleeping? Is he working?

Is he missing me as I'm missing him?

I contemplate. A mere twenty-four hours earlier I was disturbing him – would it be overkill to do it yet again?

But then I think about the fact that any normal married couple would have spoken tonight. Separated by hundreds of miles, any wife would miss her husband and call to say goodnight. Surely, I can too.

I grab my cell and press the speed dial.

He answers on the first ring, his voice heavy with sleep and worry.

"_Bella?"_

"Hi," I say in whisper, feeling guilty for obviously waking him.

"_Are you alright?" _

He sounds so anxious. I smile into the phone – oh, my sweet, crazy husband.

"Yes. I'm sorry for waking you. I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you," I whisper in response, feeling the knot in my throat as I say it. It's so strange to finally be able to say these things out loud to him, rather than keeping them inside to eat away at me. It's nice to finally be able to say how I feel.

"_Oh, baby, I miss you too." _

His velvety voice is so soft, so calming.

"Do you want me to let you go back to sleep?" I whisper, knowing it's the polite thing to say, but wishing to God that he says no.

"_No, I want to hear your voice too. Um, why are we whispering?"_ I can hear his smile as he answers in an overly exaggerated whisper.

I can't help but giggle in response.

"Honestly, I don't know." I heave out a sigh. "How was golf?"

"_Ugh. I got sunburned and then had to sit through meetings the rest of the day in a suit. It was horrible." _

I suppress the urge to giggle.

"That sucks. Are you feeling better now?"

"_Yeah, I took some Advil and bought some aloe. I'm going to have one ugly farmer's tan though."_ I can hear him stifle a yawn as he speaks, his voice still raspy with sleep.

"I'm sure it'll fade quickly once you get back to gloomy Washington."

"_Yeah, you're probably right."_

"Oh! I want to tell you before I forget – Rose and Emmett invited us to a barbecue at their house Saturday afternoon. I was hoping we could go."

"_Um, yeah, that sounds fun." _

I can tell he's not overly thrilled, but I'm not giving in on this one. I want him to know my friends better and I want my friends to see the side of Edward that I love so much. This will be our first social outing as a real couple – I can't help but feel like it will be pivotal for us.

"So…when will you be home?"

"_Early tomorrow afternoon. Maybe we can go out to dinner tomorrow night. We could celebrate your job."_ His voice sounds shy and I know this is his way of letting me know he supports me. It's heartwarming. It's incredible. I hope it lasts.

"That sounds perfect." I can't help the giddy grin that takes over.

I can hear him stifle a yawn again and I know I should let him go. He has an empire to run and I have a new career to start tomorrow.

"You should go back to sleep. Have a safe trip home tomorrow."

"_Are you sure, baby? I can stay on the phone until you fall asleep."_

"No, I'm good. I love you. I can't wait for tomorrow night."

"_I love you, too. Have a good day at work. I'll be waiting when you get home."_

When we finally hang up, I feel much better. It feels like the universe is balanced again and the emptiness and noises that were so overwhelming moments before don't seem to matter anymore.

~~~~ATA~~~~

Work is exhausting.

There is so much to do. If I wasn't going back to classes next week, I'd almost consider volunteering to work full time for my part time pay just to make some progress.

Despite the obnoxious workload, I'm still extremely excited and grateful to be here. I still stand behind my choice to work and I'm hoping to make some new friends here and explore a whole new side of myself.

Today, I feel lighter somehow. The extra sleep last night has done wonders for both my body and mood and my late night talk with Edward, regardless of how short, has helped to alleviate some doubts that still linger even after all we've been through the past few weeks.

By mid-afternoon, I've met my hours for the day and decide to pack up and head home.

It's an unusually hot day for end of summer in Seattle and I blast the air conditioning on high as soon as I make it to my car, taking immense pleasure in the feel of the cold air blowing against my sweaty face. Deciding to wait a few minutes for the steering wheel to cool down after sitting in the hot sun all day, I dig around in my bag for my cell phone. I had switched it to silent before going to work to avoid any obnoxious and embarrassing ringing and hadn't even had a moment to glance at it through all of the hustle.

The screen lights up with one late-morning missed call from Edward and one voicemail.

I bite my lip and grin giddily as I dial the voicemail system.

"_Hey, Bella, it's me. I'm so sorry, but I'm going to be stuck here another day. The CEO here had to delay on finalizing the merger because of some miscalculations in the proposal. I need to stay here until we get it worked out and everything is signed. I promise I'll make it up to you. I delayed my flight to tomorrow morning, so I should be home in time for Rose's barbecue. I'll call you later tonight. We have a dinner meeting scheduled, but I should be back at the hotel by 9 or 10. I love you."_

And just like that, the world feels like it's closing in on me again. I blow out a breath and close my eyes as I press delete.

Ok.

So, what now?

I don't want to spend another night home alone.

I don't want to be angry, but I am.

I don't want to feel hurt, but I am.

I don't want to feel guilty for feeling angry and hurt, but I do.

I don't want to be _that_ wife – the one who overanalyzes and overreacts to every little fucking thing.

But I am.

He didn't even sound that upset.

Well, that's not entirely true. I honestly couldn't really tell from his tone if he was upset or not.

Ok, so I need to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I mean, come on. The last few days have included a rather large fight, flinging expensive crystal, a surprise visit to Denver, some fucktastic make-up sex on a hotel sofa, and a rather heartwarming late night phone call.

Obviously, Edward would have come home today if he could have.

Right?

Right.

What an asshole.

Ok, that's not fair. God, I'm such a bitch.

Jesus, can't my brain ever process information and events and things in a normal fucking way?

_No._

I'm not going to give into these stupid urges. What my immature and overemotional self wants to do is ignore Edward's call tonight and give him the fucking silent treatment for two days. But what I'm going to do is act like an adult. I'm going to go home and get through the night and then tomorrow night we'll be back together.

And hopefully, another night apart will make for some serious sexual tension that desperately needs relieved.

Maybe we can have phone sex tonight.

Ok, probably not. We're both too fucking awkward to pull that off. It would probably be embarrassing. Somehow, I just can't picture Edward willingly partaking in phone sex.

With a huff, I shift the car into drive and maneuver my way out of the parking lot.

It's nearly an hour and a half later when I finally pull into our driveway.

Deciding to make the most of my night alone, I've armed myself with all the essentials, including a case of Diet Coke, a huge Chipotle burritos (which I had to drive twenty minutes out of the way for), three kinds of ice cream, a new bottle of ridiculously expensive bubble bath, and two bottles of champagne.

I can celebrate my new job on my own, thank you very much.

I start with the bubble bath.

It helps. Well, kind of helps.

It's only about six o' clock when I put on my awesome and unsexy Scooby-doo pajamas.

I feel like a loser.

But at least I smell nice, thanks to the bubble bath purchase.

I settle on the couch and fire up the ridiculously expensive blu-ray set-up equipped with Netflix.

With my fattening food laid out on the coffee table, I begin my pity party with Season 3 of The Office, because it's angsty as hell but still makes me laugh. Somehow I'm hoping that watching Jim and Pam dance around each other while a hopelessly clueless Karen gets in the way will make me feel better about the fact that I'm alone tonight.

I fucking hate Karen. I mean, what right did she have to continue her relationship with Jim when she knew how he felt about Pam? And how could sweet Jim be such an ass and continue to lead Karen on? What a fucking prick.

Somewhere around six episodes in, I get up in search of an antacid since I've devoured an entire Chipotle burrito with extra hot sauce and a whole bottle of champagne.

Definitely not a good idea.

Somewhere around one in the morning, I'm curled in a ball on the couch with a burning stomach and a fuzzy head, my eyes heavy and closing just as Pam is making her public confession to Jim at the beach.

It's then that I realize Edward never called.

~~~~ATA~~~~

I ring the doorbell to Rose and Emmett's before taking a step back to Edward's side. I can't help but fidget anxiously with the hem of my shirt as I peer off to the side to find him biting away nervously at his bottom lip.

I reach over and squeeze his hand lightly in my own. How can a man who is so competent and successful in everything he does be so damn nervous to sit on a freaking patio and eat some burgers with a few people he doesn't know? Aside from the tension that is radiating off of him, he looks the part of the perfect husband. Handsome as ever in his dark jeans and light blue polo shirt and his hair a perfected mess, he looks incredible. He smells amazing too – it takes a fair amount of self control not to bury my nose in his neck and inhale deeply. I've been completely distracted by it since we left our house.

I'm also dressed casual, but unfortunately look much less than perfect. I've also chosen jeans, rolled up to capri length, and a lavender peasant blouse over a white camisole. A pair of worn white and lavender Converse and a messy ponytail complete the look. I didn't even bother with make-up today. I have no idea why, but I felt the need to look natural and _normal_ today. Edward mentioned on our first real date just a few short weeks ago how he wanted us to be a normal couple. Well, I'm sure I look the part of a normal wife today.

Everything is….awkward.

Edward had rushed into the house just an hour before, leaving little time for any deep discussions. A quick hug and peck on the lips and then he was off to shower and get ready.

The car ride was quiet.

I asked about his trip and the business deal, to which he offered short responses.

There has been no mention of he delayed return or his broken promise to call last night. I'm sure I could have asked. I probably should have asked. The annoying bitchy side of me just wants him to bring it up first, which is irrational and stupid, but true nonetheless. Fuck, I even annoy myself sometimes. But hey, I never claimed to be perfect.

I'm not really _that _upset.

I'm happy to see him. I'm happy to be going to Rose's. I want us to have a good day.

So I'm just going to try and act normal.

Honestly, if it weren't for the nervousness about today and anxiousness over last night, I'd be giddy with joy. Edward and I are at a friend's house for a barbecue that has nothing to do with business. I'm under no contractual obligation to be by his side today – I'm here because I want to be. And Edward, the man who has called the shots as far as our social life up until now, is here simply because I asked him to be. Although I'm sure he'd much rather be somewhere else at the moment, he's here because he's my husband and he loves me and when that door opens we are going to be around other people as a real couple.

Well, a couple who don't bother coming home or calling when they say they will.

But I'm not upset or anything.

As if in response to my internal mutterings, the door suddenly flings open, revealing Emmett in all his gigantic glory. He has a huge, heartwarming smile as always, along with a bright red apron that reads "Kiss the cook…he's hiding in my pants."

"Hey, guys! Come on in!"

Rather than step aside to let us through, Emmett flings his arms around me in a bone crushing hug, my feet easily coming half a foot off the ground as he lifts me. I would be giggling if I could breathe. Thankfully, he lets me down gently and steps back to smile down at me.

"Hey, Bells! We've missed you!" Man, he's loud. His voice could easily carry halfway through the neighborhood.

"Hi, Em. I've missed you too. Thanks for having us over."

"I'm glad you guys could come. Hey, Edward! Good to see you, man," he says, refocusing his attention on Edward, whose eyes are wide in response to the energetic welcome we've received.

As their hands meet in what appears to be an overly aggressive handshake, Edward smiles awkwardly.

"Good to see you too, Emmett." Edward's voice sounds odd, like he's trying to figure out exactly how friendly he should be. Or perhaps like a man whose hand is currently being crushed by a giant. When their hands part, I notice Edward give his a little shake. God, I hope Emmett didn't do the whole pissing contest thing men do and squeeze the shit out of Edward's poor fingers.

Emmett finally steps aside and leads the way to the back patio, making small talk about the car shop, the weather, and the burgers he's cooking. Their backyard is huge compared to the size of their home. I've always been surprised that Rose, a woman who prefers rebuilding engines to acting like a homemaker, actually loves gardening. Their fence is lined with beautiful and vibrant rose bushes, greenery, and an abundance of colorful flowers I couldn't even begin to name. Their grass is green, lush, and perfectly manicured, surrounding a huge wooden deck filled with beautiful wrought iron patio furniture, hanging flower pots, and for some odd reason, one garden gnome dressed like a butterfly. At one side, a huge grill is emitting sizzling noises and puffs of smoke filled with the always delicious smell of cooking meat.

I squeeze Edward's hand in mine as he walks close behind me, hoping to reassure him that everything is going to be fine.

Even though he didn't call me last night.

But whatever.

Surveying the small crowd of 8 or 10 people, I realize I hardly know anyone here.

Thankfully, I spot Alice immediately when I hear her let out a squeal as she runs and jumps at me like a kid on Christmas.

I laugh and throw my arms around her, squeezing her tight. Aside from a few short phone calls and her recent missed drunk-dialing messages, I haven't seen her since the club opening a few weeks ago. She looks adorable in a pair of tight black skinny jeans, a red tank top, and a pair of obnoxiously tall red heels. Only Alice could pull off such an ensemble at a casual barbecue.

"Bella! I'm so glad you're here. Edward! I haven't seen you in forever! How are you? Bella, you look so cute! I love that shirt. Oh my God, hold on, there's someone I want you to meet."

She scurries off in a black and red blur, leaving both Edward and I standing there with our mouths open. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to her and her apparent lack of need for oxygen. I glance at Edward and giggle at the look of shock on his face.

"Is she always like that?" he asks in a soft whisper, leaning in close to my ear. Fuck, he smells good, the non-calling bastard. I just grin and nod in response, daydreaming of getting him home and licking his neck.

Suddenly, Alice reappears, dragging some poor guy behind her. He's super tall, towering over here by at least a foot and a half, but he's having trouble keeping up and appears to be amused, with a secretive smile on his face. He's sporting tight, worn jeans and a button down blue shirt. Curly blond hair falls around his tan face. He's definitely handsome. Although he is wearing cowboy boots, which I have to admit I have never found attractive on a man. Lucky for him, he's striking enough that it almost doesn't matter.

"Bella," she says in an obnoxious whisper that I'm sure the entire group can hear, "this is the cowboy." Oh my God, is this the cowboy she was going on about to Rose the other night?

"Jasper?" Edward's surprised voice startles me. Looking over at him, I see his face light up in a ridiculous and cheesy smile.

"Edward? Man, it's good to see you!" The cowboy's face mirrors Edward's and the pair is suddenly man-hugging and talking at the same time like a couple of sorority girls. Even Alice looks confused as hell. She shoots me a questioning look, but all I can do is shrug in response.

"Holy shit! It's been a long time. How's life treating you?" Jasper's deep voice is punctuated with a southern drawl that I would guess is either a Tennessee or Kentucky.

Edward is still lit up like a Christmas tree. "Good man, really good. How about you? I thought you were still in Texas?" He sounds so light and carefree. Who is this Jasper person and why does Edward seem so happy to see him? I'm positive he's never mentioned knowing someone named Jasper.

"Um, how do you guys know each other?" Alice asks, taking the words right out of my mouth.

Jasper reaches out and puts his arm around her waist as he answers with a grin. "Edward and I were roommates in college."

Well, alrighty then.

"Small world, right?" I say with what I hope is a friendly smile. I thrust my hand at Jasper awkwardly. "Um, I'm Bella, Edward's wife."

Jasper's face is surprised as he shakes my hand forcefully, focusing on Edward with his response. "Wow! Edward, I didn't know you had gotten married!" He turns back to me, his face open and friendly. "Nice to meet ya, Bella."

"You too. Um, well why don't you guys catch up and Alice and I will go find Rose and see if she needs any help."

I edge away toward Alice awkwardly, leaving the boys to their little reunion. I grab her hand and pull her off toward the house, where I'm assuming Rose is in the kitchen working her Betty Crocker magic or whatever. I hear Edward's belt out a laugh as we walk away.

What the hell? Edward has never mentioned some cowboy friend from college.

I've never seen his face light up like that. I should be happy for him, but that annoying, bitchy side of me is rearing up again with a jealous flare that I'm certain is going to eat away at me for the rest of the evening.

"Wow! That was unexpected. No offense, but I would never have pictured Edward and Jasper as college buddies," Alice whispers conspiratorially as we spot Rose chopping away at something in the kitchen.

"Hey, beautiful! I'm glad you're here. Where's your crazy husband?" Rose smiles as she spots us, looking beautiful as ever in a dark green tank top and white skinny jeans.

"Apparently, Edward and Alice's cowboy are long lost college friends or something. They are out back rekindling their bromance," I say as we hug quickly. Pulling away, I survey the situation and grab a knife to help her slice tomatoes.

"No shit? That's kind of crazy. He seems nice, though."

"He does seem nice. He's definitely cute. Nicely done, Alice," I say, giggling as Alice blushes with a dreamy smile on her face.

"He's just freakin' perfect. I met him at a bar of all places, but as crazy as it sounds, I think I love him." Alice smiles dreamily as she arranges lettuce and tomatoes on a tray.

I can't help but smile and sigh. As long as I've known Alice, I've rarely seen her all blushing and glassy-eyed over a guy. It's definitely sweet to see one of my best friends so happy.

The non-bitchy side of me immediately begins to think of the potential benefits here since Jasper and Edward are long lost pals. Maybe he'd be more open to hanging out with my friends if there were someone he felt comfortable around. Parties, dinners out, holidays – the possibilities are endless.

Maybe our kids will all play together someday.

Holy shit.

Kids.

Nope, not going to think about that right now.

Unfortunately, before I can learn more about Jasper and plan all of our futures, Emmett pops in to inform us that the burgers are ready.

We follow him out, carrying trays of food and burger fixings.

I meet a few more people as we fill our plates and sit down. Sam and Jared, a couple of guys from Rose and Emmett's shop are hilarious, stereo-typical male mechanics. I instantly like them, even though they refer to women as "chicks" and "bitches" several times in our short conversation. Riley, Emmett's cousin, is a creepy blond with a skinny face and teeth that appear too big for his mouth or something. He openly stares at my chest during our short, two-sentence introduction. I meet a couple named Kate and Antonio, who I learn are Rose and Emmett's next door neighbors, and although they smile and make the necessary small talk, I get the feeling they aren't the nicest people in the world. They seem like they'd be the type of neighbors who let their dog crap in the neighbor's yard and then smile as if nothing happened.

I'm thankful when everyone is finally seated, because this looks like a really fucking good burger and I'm starving. My mouth is full of meat and I'm moaning in a porn-star like fashion at how good it tastes when Rose starts her typical protective, just-looking-out-for-my-friend interrogation of Jasper. My ears and eyes perk up and I prepare to be her back-up since not only is Jasper with Alice, but he's also apparently a part of my husband's life.

"So, Jasper, what do you do for a living?" Rose asks Jasper just as he takes a bite.

Jasper politely chews and swallows before answering. I know he's just earned a point from Rose for manners.

"I own a bookstore called The Rare Reader. We sell rare and collectible books." He smiles politely before taking another bite. Alice grins up at him adoringly.

I have to admit I feel like an ass – I'm not sure what I was expecting given his southern drawl and cowboy boots, but owning a bookstore sure wasn't it.

"So, you and Edward met in college?" Rose asks. I almost lean forward in anticipation of hearing more about their friendship.

"Yeah, we were roommates when we were freshman and became good friends." Jasper and Edward grin at each other in one of those "inside joke" kind of ways.

"Where did you guys go to college?"

"University of Washington."

"Holy shit! Edward, I thought you went to Harvard or something like that," Rose says, genuinely surprised.

Poor Edward's cheeks turn pink. "Um, Udub actually has one of the top computer science programs in the nation. It's actually ranked much higher than Harvard," he says in defense.

Huh. I didn't know that.

Unfortunately, the rest of the party passes with little more insight into Jasper and Edward as the conversation suddenly turns to colleges and such. Apparently, Riley the creepy guy majored in Women's Studies at the University of Colorado, which sparks up enough conversation to keep everyone busy through dessert.

The car ride home is still awkward.

About halfway home, I can't stand it any longer and I just have to ask the question that's been burning in my mind all damn day.

"Why didn't you call me last night?" I blurt out, my voice squeaking embarrassingly.

Edward takes his eyes off the road to glance at me quickly with a furrowed brow.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't get back to the hotel until late and I didn't want to wake you. I assumed you'd probably be asleep already," he answers softly. He looks almost panicked; as if he's afraid I'm going to start yelling or something.

"Oh," I respond dumbly. I don't really know what to say. I don't want to fight. I don't want to cause any more drama. We've already dealt with enough drama to last a lifetime.

But it hurts.

And it makes my thoughts drift off on my usual neurotic course.

I thought I knew almost everything about him. I thought he knew me.

I feel…well, I don't know how I feel. Nervous? Unbalanced?

We're supposed to know each other. We're supposed to be invested and ingrained in each other's lives.

He's supposed to know that when he says he'll call me, he should do it, even if it will wake me up.

I'm supposed to know about his college days and best friends from his past.

What else do we not know about each other?

As I stare at his profile, I realize we still have a lot of work to do.

Movement pulls my gaze away from his face to his hand, which is tentatively moving across the console. His warm fingers intertwine with mine in my lap and softly squeeze. My body erupts in warmth and tingles from the chaste, yet unexpected touch.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to take you out last night. What do you say we celebrate tomorrow? We'll have all day. I promise I'll make it up to you." He smiles nervously at me, his eyes gentle and hopeful.

"I'd like that," I answer softly.

Even through my doubts, I can't help but smile.

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A/N: So…the next few chapters will all build from this one in moving them forward as a couple, so stay tuned! Also, if you are interested in reading EPOV from this story, put me on author alert – in the next few weeks I'll be posting an outtake or two :-)

Updated A/N: Just posted an EPOV - check out my profile to read it :-) Happy holidays!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

A/N: Sooo..it's been a while…and I'm so sorry…real life, ya' know?

Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. Hope you're still with me and haven't given up on this story!

A huge thank you to WTF Am I Doing for her amazing prereading skills on this one!

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It's four o'clock on a Sunday morning and I'm wide awake.

Sundays are usually my favorite day of the week.

Edward runs an empire, a feat that requires his undivided, round the clock attention. He's usually up before dawn and spends most of his waking hours either at the office or in his study. But Sundays are the exception. He sleeps in – not by much, but at least he doesn't set his alarm to some ungodly, dark-thirty hour. He skips his workout. He sits at the table and reads the paper with his coffee. He actually relaxes.

By noon, he's usually had enough normalcy and heads back to his study, but for those few short hours each Sunday morning, he's like a different person.

Which is why I love Sundays.

I have never been a morning person. I usually don't even see Edward in the mornings – I wake up alone a couple hours after he's headed off to do important things. Sundays, though, are the exception. We often wake at the same time and share a few moments together in bed – something I've simultaneously hoped for and dreaded in the past. It's one of those normal things most couples are used to, but for us it has usually meant awkward, shy smiles and exchanges of "no, you can have the bathroom first" and me staring longingly at a morning-version of Edward I've never had the pleasure of getting to know very well.

Sometimes, on rare, blessed Sunday mornings, I've been lucky enough to wake first. Those sweet, peaceful moments I've spent watching Edward sleep and marveling at how young and peaceful he looks, with his handsome face showing no signs of his usual stress and his body, usually rigid and composed, in a completely relaxed state.

Today, as I watch him sleep, I wish I could just close my eyes and drift off beside him. If only I could shut my damn brain off for a few minutes, I could maybe be as calm and serene as he looks at this moment. His hair is disheveled from sleep, his lips slightly parted as he breathes deeply. He lies there motionless, no signs of stress, dreams, or nightmares. Completely tranquil.

I'm so tired.

The past several weeks run through my head like a television drama running in marathon on some cable network. So much has changed, so much is the same, so much is left to be determined. It's exhausting thinking of it all, but I just can't seem to stop.

I'm just so fucking tired of thinking, of wondering, of questioning, of feeling.

When I was twenty-one, long before I met Edward and my whole world changed, I started taking yoga classes at the one of the local recreation centers. On a whim, feeling much more confident in my level of yoga experience that I should have felt, I enrolled in a ten hour yoga retreat. I recall looking at the lime-green flyer, reading about how devoting just one day would change my life by offering a "relaxing, nurturing, and spiritually uplifting" experience complete with a delicious vegetarian lunch. I have vivid memories of that day. Relaxing? Not so much – it's generally hard for me to relax when my limbs have been in unnatural positions for ten straight hours. Spiritually uplifting? Fuck yes it was. Over the course of that ten hour seminar, I did things I honestly would never have thought possible. I held a firefly pose for a solid minute. I finally executed a perfect downward facing dog, with heels completely touching the floor.

I did a fucking headstand. A _headstand_, for crying out loud.

I'm the type of girl who fakes cramps to get out of gym class. I'm not someone who can do crazy things like headstands.

It was _exhilarating_. It was _incredible_.

And it was completely exhausting.

I remember hobbling up the stairs to my apartment and falling asleep for twelve straight hours, a heating pad nestled between my legs for my poor, aching inner thigh muscles. I remember feeling like jelly, my legs just incapable of normal movement for a good three days afterward.

I have never before or after experienced that level of exhaustion.

Until this very moment.

Here, lying in bed next to my sleeping husband on a Sunday morning, my mind filtering through all the good and bad events of the past several weeks, my body feeling the effects of weeks of adrenaline rushes and tears, I feel the same way I did after that yoga retreat.

I feel like I'm trying to do a headstand and no matter what I do, I just keep falling.

Exhausted.

With a sigh, I look over at Edward again. He's so….everything. He's weird and awkward, but at the same time smooth and sweet. He doesn't know how to act around me, but then I don't know how to do any of this either. I crave him, but at the same time I push him away. I want him to talk to me, but I don't know what to say when he does. I'm like an adolescent, stuck in this adult body. I feel like I've lost the last five years of my life somehow. While everything around me was evolving and growing, I just stayed the same. I've built this wall around myself and I don't know how to tear it down. Just a few short weeks ago, we played twenty questions and were going somewhere, but this past week seems to have put us back at square one. In that hotel in Denver, it felt like everything would be ok, but now I just don't know.

Last night, we talked in the car and made plans for today, but when we walked into the house, he had scurried off to his study to finish up some business. I had spent the evening hours alone on the couch, eating cereal and watching some documentary about the world's deadliest roads. Fitting, it seems. Why do people get in a car and trek on up some winding, mountain road in a snow storm, knowing their chances of dying increase exponentially with the altitude? I guess they have somewhere to be. They have important things to do – things worth risking their lives on a narrow, icy road with no guardrail. I suppose it's like Edward and I – declaring our love for one another was like getting in that car. We knew we could drive right off the edge, but I'd like to think it's worth the risk.

My neck aches and my vision blurs around the edges. I just need to close my eyes and forget about all of this shit for awhile. Edward's on his back. I could easily tuck myself into his side, warm and safe and hope for sleep.

But I don't. And I don't know why.

Instead, I roll over, facing the wall away from him and close my eyes, focusing on his even breathing. A soft, calming pattern that eventually lulls me back to sleep.

~~~~~ATA~~~~~

I'm so warm. I feel like I'm in a cocoon, wrapped up in something comforting. Even from behind my closed eyelids, I can tell the room is no longer swathed in darkness. As the sleepy haze slowly clears in my head and my eyes oh-so-barely peek open, I realize Edward's warm body is wrapped around me. I'm further down on the bed, his muscular arm now my pillow with my head tucked tightly beneath his chin. His arms are wrapped securely around me, leaving be barely enough room to breathe. Along the length of my back, I can feel every ridge of his body pressed firmly against mine.

I can feel his heart beating faintly right between my shoulder blades.

It feels so…safe. Protected. Like nothing in the world could hurt me.

I wish we could always be like this…here in this bubble where there's nothing but him and me; where he's not working a million hours a week and I'm not a complete neurotic mess all the time. In this one moment in time, it's just Edward and Bella, safe and asleep and warm and happy.

I have to pee, but I'm just not ready to move and break the spell. A quick glance at the clock on my nightstand shows it's after nine in the morning. I can't believe Edward is still asleep – this is late even for lazy-Sunday-Edward.

I'm so perfectly warm. With a contented and hushed sigh, I decide that nothing could make me move from this, even if my poor bladder must suffer.

My eyes drift close and for several minutes, I teeter between consciousness and a dream world, focusing only on the feeling of his body aligned with mine.

And then his breathing changes. From deep and slow to shallow and not-quite-rapid.

He's waking up.

I twist as carefully as I can through the tight grip of his arms, trying not to force him fully awake. Pulling my head back, I'm startled to see his eyes fully open, aware and gazing at me intently.

Slowly, almost shyly, his lips twist up in a grin.

Just as shyly, I smile back at him.

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he clears his throat. His hair is a mess, his cheeks flushed.

"You know," he begins, his voice gravelly and hoarse, "this is the first morning we've woken up in the same bed for a few days." His grin fades and his stare intensifies, his eyes darting back and forth to between mine, as if he's searching for something. "I much prefer this to waking up alone."

"Me too." It's all I can manage to say, as my voice is just as hoarse as his. And it's true…waking up in his arms is pure heaven compared to the many mornings of hell we've gone through the past several weeks.

I'm suddenly aware of the close proximity…we're practically nose to nose here. And I've just woken up. Morning breath. And I still have to pee. Ugh. Why can't this be like the movies when everyone wakes up with freshly applied make-up, sparkly teeth, and bouncing, beautiful hair?

And why doesn't Edward have morning breath? Like, ever? For all his flaws, he certainly is some kind of other-worldly specimen. Even with that messy hair and red cheeks, he looks as beautiful as ever. I'm sure I look and smell as though I've slept in a barn or something.

I start to pull away, hoping for a quick getaway to the bathroom before he gets completely grossed out.

To my horror, his arms tighten around me, holding me tightly in place. And he gets closer if that's even possible. He leans in close to my ear, his perfect, non-morning breath tickles at my neck.

"No, please stay here with me." He pulls back slightly, and I can see his face again. His eyes are soft and uncertain as he gazes at me.

"I need to brush my teeth." And pee, for heaven's sake.

"Just a few minutes. Please stay. We don't get to wake up like this very often. Can't we just enjoy it?" His voice is soft…pleading.

I don't answer. I want to enjoy it…but those uncertainties that always plague me are there in the back of my mind, even about stupid, inconsequential things like morning breath. Can't I ever just shut the hell up and relax and enjoy a moment?

And then he kisses me. It's all hard and passionate and morning-breath-be-damned and oh my God.

And his hands start to move. And I'm suddenly hyperaware of the fact that I'm wearing nothing but an old t-shirt and a pair of lime-green, purple-polka-dotted panties that are probably older than our marriage. But as one hand slides beneath my shirt, stopping to gently caress my stomach before moving up toward my breast, and the other moves to palm my polka-dot covered bottom and pull me closer to him, I just can't find it in me to care about my morning attire.

It's a struggle given how close we are, but as I pull away to gulp in some much needed air, I weave my arm between his to reach around, sliding along his bare torso and clutching at his back. I can feel his muscles flexing beneath my palm, his skin warm and charged.

Suddenly, his hands move again and he rolls us, pinning me to the bed, his palms flat at the sides of my head, our noses touching as we pant both try to catch our breath.

"I've missed you," he whispers softly, before capturing my lips again.

The next moments are a blur of hasty movement as he pushes my t-shirt up and off and my hands grasp at the waistband of his pajama pants, trying desperately to push them down. His body feels deliciously heavy against mine, overheated beneath the covers, skin against skin. When he finally pushes into me, all thought disappears as the sensations take over.

I resist the urge to close my eyes as we move together, our bodies sliding in perfect harmony. It's fast and hard, yet gentle and oh so good as one of his hands supports his body and the other slides up my side leaving a path of fire before clasping my palm in his.

I've missed this too – the feeling of him on top of me and inside of me and dominating my body as I try to rise to meet each incredible thrust.

It only seems like a few short moments when I can no longer hold on. The fight with my eyelids is lost as I throw my head back and come with a sharp, breathy cry of his name, feeling my body tense and pulse around him in release. Almost instantly, my name leaves his lips as he lets go too.

When he collapses on top of me, I welcome the weight as he buries his head in my neck.

And we stay like that for several moments, silent warm and safe and sated in the morning light. After a while, he turns us gently so we are lying on our sides face to face.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, catching me off guard, because let's be honest, that's not exactly what one would expect from their husband after some incredible lovemaking.

"For what?" I asked, internally starting to panic. Is he sorry about the sex?

"For not calling."

Huh? I thought we had already talked about this. I look up at his face. He looks sad…and sincere.

"You already apologized for that," I whisper back.

"I know, but I just really need you to know I am sorry. I thought about it last night and I just can't get it out of my head. I told you to trust me and talk to me, but then I broke a promise to you." He blows out a breath as if he'd been holding it. His stare intensifies.

I remain silent for a second, wondering what to say to that. It's the same thing we always come back to – we always come back to this…we both seem to be very good at making mistakes.

Slowly, he reaches up to caress my cheek. He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Everything's going to be okay. You know that, don't you?" He asks, his voice low and unsure.

Do I? I really don't know. If everything was going to be okay, why do these doubts still cloud my mind and judgment and make me crazy?

"No. Sometimes I think it is," I pause to clear my throat as quietly as I can, "but sometimes everything feels so uncertain."

"I know…but I promise you, it's going to be okay." Edward's face is set in certainty, his eyes staring directly into mine.

And I want to slap myself and stick my head in a freezer or something…because the first unprovoked thought that pops into my head is so awful and bitchy, I immediately want to cry for even having thought it. _Well, you also promised to call on Friday night._

He sounds so sure…how can he be so sure?

I decide this is far too serious of a conversation after such a wonderful morning and decide to switch tactics.

"Tell me about Jasper," I say, hoping to finagle some more info out of him.

Not surprisingly, he looks a bit taken off guard and for a brief moment, I wonder if he's offended that I've switched the direction of our conversation.

"Huh? He's an old college friend. I told you that." He purses his lips slightly and I almost feel like a child who's been loud at church or something.

Yet, I press on. This is so important to me…I feel like at this point in our relationship – be it as lovers, friends, business, whatever – we should know more about one another and our pasts.

"But you two seem so close, yet you've never even mentioned him. I just feel like there's this big important part of your past I don't even know about. I want to know everything about you."

The hand that was caressing my cheek moves away and he rolls on his back. I panic at the thought that he's pulling away from me…maybe he doesn't want to talk about this?

But as he stares up at the ceiling, I'm relieved when I hear his voice again.

"He was my roommate freshman year."

He takes a deep breath and begins again, this time without pause.

"I love my parents, but they've basically breathed down my neck my whole life, you know? I never had a lot of friends, I never really had a normal high school experience. When everyone else was at football games and parties, I was at home studying or at my parents' stupid parties 'making connections' as my father would say. When I left for college, my father was adamant that I live at home so I could focus on my studies and not get caught up in the college scene, but I absolutely refused."

Edward turns his head slightly toward me and a small smile plays at his lips.

"That was actually one of the few times I've ever stood up to him. We fought for weeks about it. I don't know why, but he finally caved. I think my mom must have somehow swayed him. Anyway, when I moved into the dorms, Jasper was my roommate. He was like this nice, normal guy and I was...well, me, you know?"

He fidgets slightly, turning on his side to face me again.

"That first year, he kind of took me under his wing and really helped me grow out of my shell. He was just a really good friend. I had never really had someone who I could count on, you know? It was just what I needed at the time. I mean, think about it. I was rich, socially awkward, and had overbearing, socialite parents. Most guys would probably hate to be my roommate. I can't imagine if some crazy jock had been assigned to my dorm room…I probably would have gotten my ass kicked. But Jasper never once judged me. He basically made sure I had a normal college experience. Beer, parties, girls…I guess you could say he was kind of like an older brother to me."

Suddenly, he chuckles.

"My dad hated him. He always thought Jasper was going to ruin my life and keep me from doing what I was meant to do. The ironic thing is, I honestly don't think I would have ended up this successful if it weren't for Jasper…I think I needed those few wild years to clear my head or something. Anyway, we shared an apartment throughout the rest of college." He smiles wistfully. "We had a lot of good times together back then."

And I can understand that. My heart kind of breaks to think of Edward living with the pressure put on him by his parents…what must have it been like to be him growing up? I was the product of divorce and although I was loved, my parents were more neglectful than anything. Where I craved attention from my family, Edward had them breathing down his neck. I can imagine finally being on his own and having a friend to support him was definitely a change for the better.

Damn it, I still have to pee, but he's talking and I want to know more…I squeeze my thighs together in hopes to last a bit longer before I have to make a sprint to the bathroom.

"Why didn't you guys keep in touch?" I ask, hoping to keep him talking.

"Uh, after we graduated, he moved back home to Texas. We saw each other a few times over the years and emailed here and there, but once my business took off, I think time just got away from us. Life gets in the way, you know?" He looks and sounds sad…obviously this is one of his regrets in life.

"Why didn't you invite him to our wedding?"

Edward's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and for a moment too long, he contemplates this. He obviously hasn't really thought about this before.

"Honestly, I didn't really think about it. I think I just let my mom handle most of the guest list. At the time, our marriage meant something different."

Ouch.

"I know," I say softly, hoping to conceal the emotion in my voice.

It's true, I know…I knew what I was getting into. But he says it so nonchalantly. I have no right to be offended – he's just stating the truth after all. But the thought that he didn't even _think_ about inviting his best friend who changed his life and made his college years bearable simply because of the nature of our marriage kind of hurts. I mean, come on, we were trying to convince the world that we were in love. Why wouldn't he want his friend there for that?

Was he embarrassed by me?

I really have to pee.

And I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Thankfully, he changes topics.

"Where do you want to go tonight?" he asks, smiling at me, his eyes excited.

I smile back, thankful for the distraction.

"Um, I don't care. Surprise me."

"Surprise you, huh? I think I can manage that," he says with a grin and coy wink.

A surprised giggle escapes me…he's gone from serious to carefree over the course of a few seconds. I much prefer him this way.

"Why are you squirming?" he asks, his face still alight with humor.

"I have to pee."

As my face erupts in an embarrassed blush, he snorts out an amused laugh, clearly finding humor in my discomfort.

I roll my eyes at him as I quickly clamber from the bed, not even caring about the fact that I'm completely naked as I dash off to the bathroom.

As I go about my business in the bathroom, I can hear Edward's voice in the bedroom, though I can't quite make out what he's saying. He must be on the phone or something.

What an eye-opening morning…I feel lighter somehow knowing that Edward willingly opened up and shared something about his past. I make a mental note to call Alice later today and plan for a double-date. Somehow, I really think having Jasper back in his life will be good for Edward.

With clean teeth, clean face, and hair combed, I slip back out the bathroom door. Edward is back in his pajama bottoms, his torso bare as he stares out the window with crossed arms. From my spot across the room, I can only see his profile, but I can tell he's tense and chewing at his bottom lip, something he often does when he's anxious or worried.

As I slip my t-shirt back over my head, he turns towards me revealing that I was right – he's definitely worried about something. His brow is furrowed slightly and his shoulders are tensed up. His eyes look apprehensive as his eyes meet mine.

"I'm so sorry, baby. We're going to have to postpone our dinner tonight."

I suck in a breath, feeling my body tense all the way to my toes…what could possibly have gone wrong now? Why can't anything ever just fucking go smoothly for us?

"Um, ok, I guess. Why though?" I ask.

In any other situation, I would laugh at the look on Edward's face. He regards me like I'm a wild animal or something, like he's somehow afraid I'll attack because I didn't get my way.

Fuck…am I really that bad that he has to be afraid of me when he delivers bad news?

"Well, my mother just called. She's invited us to dinner. I tried to tell her that we already have plans, but she insisted." He takes a deep breath and chews at his lip again. "She said they have something important the need to talk to us about She said it was urgent, but she wouldn't tell me anything more over the phone."

Well, fuck. That doesn't sound good. I say a silent prayer that everything is ok. Carlisle and Esme may be a bit uptight and I've never gotten the impression that they fully approve of me, but I do genuinely care for them.

"I really am sorry." He looks so sad, so defeated.

I walk over to him and wrap my arms around him. He stands there stiffly for a beat before he returns the embrace.

"It's alright, Edward. We can go out sometime this week. It's really not a big deal."

He pulls away and gives a stiff nod and a forced smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

I fight the urge to let out a petulant sigh. We had such a wonderful morning and now we're back to forced smiles.

I offer him a forced smile of my own and give him one last hug before heading off to get ready for the day, trying to fight the ominous feeling that tonight may not be a good one.

A/N: I would love to hear from you! I am working on the next chapter…will post as soon as humanly possible once it's complete :-)


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N: A huge thank you to WTF Am I Doing for prereading and for her wonderful suggestions.**_

_**Everyone, I'm sorry for the delay…hope you're still with me...:-) I've been focused elsewhere most of the past several months, dealing with some family things and such, so please forgive me if I haven't responded to any reviews, PM's, or tweets you may have sent. Hope you enjoy this chapter…I know you've been waiting a long time :-)**_

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_**Previously:**_

_"Well, my mother just called. She's invited us to dinner. I tried to tell her that we already have plans, but she insisted." He takes a deep breath and chews at his lip again. "She said they have something important the need to talk to us about She said it was urgent, but she wouldn't tell me anything more over the phone."_

_Well, fuck. That doesn't sound good. I say a silent prayer that everything is ok. Carlisle and Esme may be a bit uptight and I've never gotten the impression that they fully approve of me, but I do genuinely care for them._

_"I really am sorry." He looks so sad, so defeated._

_I walk over to him and wrap my arms around him. He stands there stiffly for a beat before he returns the embrace._

_"It's alright, Edward. We can go out sometime this week. It's really not a big deal."_

_He pulls away and gives a stiff nod and a forced smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes._

_I fight the urge to let out a petulant sigh. We had such a wonderful morning and now we're back to forced smiles._

_I offer him a forced smile of my own and give him one last hug before heading off to get ready for the day, trying to fight the ominous feeling that tonight may not be a good one._

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**Chapter 18:**

Sophisticated.

Demure.

Muted.

Beige.

Boring.

Dreary.

These are the buzz words running through my mind as I look at myself in the mirror.

I mean, I look _good_, but I don't look like _me_.

The pale blue, cowl neck sleeveless blouse looks pretty against the light beige, fitted slacks. The beige wedge sandals give me a few more inches in height, giving my short and curvy body the illusion of long and lean.

I've chosen the heart-shaped Tiffany earrings Edward gave me for our first Christmas together and a simple silver cuff bracelet.

Beige eyeshadow and a bit of mascara applied expertly. Hair tousled to perfection. A hint of pale pink lip gloss.

Sophisticated.

Ugh.

I look like I'm headed off to afternoon tea with a bunch of socialites. I realize why…this is what I always do when it's time to visit the Cullens. I try to look like what I think they would want me to look like…what they would expect of their daughter-in-law.

Fuck it.

I want to look like _Bella._

And Bella isn't beige.

Chewing at my lip, I head back to the closet and head straight to the color section at the back. This is where the Bella clothes are.

Some pink material peeks out from between two little black dresses and I know exactly what I want to wear.

The hot pink dress is sleeveless with a ruffled, scooped neck. The lightweight material is adorned with a scattered white floral print...it's bright, summery, and perfect. I remember Rose tossing it at me during a quick shopping trip to Macy's when she was in search of a new pair of jeans.

I unbuckle the beige sandals and quickly strip off my sophisticated clothes.

When I slip the dress over my head, the material feels so soft and light – it's the perfect dress for a late summer night dinner.

Even if it is with the Cullens giving some "important" news.

I dig through the closet further until I find a pair of silver strappy heels and a soft white cardigan.

Done.

With the cardigan neatly folded over my forearm, I head off in search of Edward, who has that wonderful advantage that men have in being able to throw on a pair of dress slacks, a button up shirt and look ready for any occasion and has therefore been ready for over twenty minutes. I usually pride myself on not being a typical girl who spends hours primping and such, but some occasions, like dinner at the in-laws, require a bit more preparation.

I find him sitting on the sofa, scrolling intently through something on his Blackberry. In the dimmed light, he looks so lovely sitting there, all firm and tone beneath the dark gray shirt and black slacks. With one ankle resting lightly on the opposite knee and one arm draped casually on the sofa back behind him , he looks powerful and relaxed at the same time – one of those looks some men just seem to pull off without effort.

He doesn't notice my arrival and I take a moment just to stare at him. He looks so relaxed, but I know he's worried...I have no clue what his parents could possibly have to tell him. Something business related? Doubtful, given the fact that their professional lives aren't linked with Edward's in any way that I know of.

Maybe they're moving? Retiring? Having money troubles? Who knows.

Their family dynamic is so strange…it's clear that Edward loves them and whenever he mentions them, it seems as though he's always known that he's been loved by them in return. They are certainly nice enough, even if some of it seems a bit forced and practiced. But they are so…uptight? I test the word out in my mind, trying to decide if that's the right description. Yes, I think it is.

I wonder what Edward would have been like as a small child. It's so hard to picture Carlisle and Esme raising a little one…did they let him actually be a kid? Or was he limited to educational toys and nonfiction books? Did they play hide and seek with him and enjoy his laughter? Or did he spend his formative years with a nanny being taught how to be prim and proper? Hmmm…I wish I were close enough with Esme to ask her more about what Edward was like growing up.

I suddenly realize I've been lost in thought for who knows how many moments. Refocusing on Edward, I'm thankful he hasn't noticed me standing here yet. Lord knows, the poor man probably thinks I'm crazy enough without catching me staring off into space like a moron.

"Hey. You ready?" I ask softly to announce my presence.

"Yes. I just need to grab my jacket and keys," he responds without looking up, eyes still trained downward on the soft glow of his phone.

As he moves to standing, he finally looks over at me and immediately smiles as his eyes take a quick sweep of my body.

"You changed," he says simply, still grinning almost boyishly as he closes the distance between us.

Nodding in reply, I nearly sigh in contentment as my own smile mirrors his. It's so nice to see joy in his face…it's not there nearly enough. Although I know there are many stressful factors in his life that keep him from smiling, I wonder if part of that is me. It seems that as often as I make him smile, I take it away…just as our relationship has done with me. I make a mental vow to do whatever it takes to make sure we both smile more.

When he reaches me, he leans down for a kiss, his soft lips meeting mine very gently. Warmth and tingling erupt low in my belly as his hands cradle my cheeks. It's simple…it's quick…but it's so incredible.

"You look beautiful," he says as he pulls away, stepping back a bit.

"Thank you," I reply, feeling my cheeks warm as he watches me.

His tongue peeks out, barely licking at his lower lip. His lips had a bit of shininess to them now, thanks to my lip gloss. I contemplate reaching up to wipe it off. Fuck, he's so handsome. I wish we didn't have to leave…I fervently wish we could spend the evening at home…naked, if possible. Our morning had been so wonderful; I can't bear the thought of another drama-filled night. I wish we could just keep the momentum going.

Tilting his head to one side, he reaches up and gently thumbs one of my earlobes. The smile on his face is shy…remembering. He says nothing, but I know he's pleased that I've chosen to wear the heart-shaped earrings. I love them…I remember when I had opened them that Christmas a few years back I had been so surprised. It was such a thoughtful gift. Receiving heart-shaped jewelry from him at the time had been kind of awkward, but they were so perfectly _me_ I couldn't help but nearly squeal with excitement. I remember he had almost sagged with relief when he saw how happy I was, like a sort of confirmation he did the right thing.

Maybe it's one of those memories I can share with our children someday. Maybe someday I can pass this pair of earrings on to a daughter of my own and tell her a story about how love can overcome any obstacle…even obstacles in the form of contracts and emotional-roadblocks.

With a sigh, he grabs my hand in his, intertwines our fingers and leads us toward the garage to leave.

~~~~ATA~~~~

The sun has almost completely set by the time we arrive. The Cullens' home is breathtaking as usual…but even more so at twilight. The mansion looks like a mini White House in both style and color, with dark blue shutters and trim.

As we near the top of the stairs leading to the main entrance at the Cullens' estate, I finally ask the question.

"Are you nervous?" I ask. He hasn't said much on the ride…a bit of small talk here and there. We've talked about my job a bit. We've discussed briefly how we will handle my return to classes in a week and the change in schedule.

I'm so curious as to why we've been summoned here. We see them occasionally, of course, but generally they keep to themselves and we keep to ours. I know Edward talks to them frequently, but rarely does he share the conversations with me.

He screws his face up in a grimace and shakes his head.

"A bit, I guess. I have no idea what they would have to tell us that couldn't wait. I'm more annoyed than anything. I honestly think my mom was just being a drama queen. She has a tendency to do that."

Huh. I would never have labeled Esme as a drama queen, but what the hell do I know? She always seems so…I don't know…_controlled._ She's like this picture-perfect woman. But usually appearances are deceptive, I guess. I should know, after all. How many people would have believed Edward and I barely knew each other on our wedding day?

He rings the bell, which erupts into a loud wind-chime like musical from inside. I've always found it odd that he rings the bell when we visit…I mean, I barely speak to my parents, but I would probably still waltz right in if I ever visited.

Suddenly, a loud, growling bark startles the hell out of me. Edward and I simultaneously step back anxiously when whatever the fuck made the noise starts scratching at the door. Jesus, it sounds like a fucking monster.

I frantically look over at Edward, whose confused expression mirrors my own.

"What the fuck?" he grumbles, as he reaches his arm out, gently pushing me so that I'm slightly behind him.

Because I'm a girl, I have to stifle the silly grin that threatens at the gesture…I love when he plays the protector.

"Is that a dog?" he asks, looking at me. I shrug, because the last time I checked, the Cullens didn't have any animals. Although I can certainly picture Esme walking around with a tiny Shih Tzu peeking out of a frilly pink handbag or something, whatever the fuck just made that noise certainly doesn't sound as though it would fit in a purse.

Suddenly the door flies open, revealing Esme hunched over, grasping at the collar of the biggest fucking dog I have ever seen.

Reflexively, I start stumbling backwards as the giant, fluffy, black dog starts to lunge at us, still panting and barking in our direction.

"Mom?" Edward screeches out in surprise.

"Get in here before the puppy gets away!" she cries, frantic and out of breath as she pulls the beast backward to make room.

Edward and I rush inside and slam the door, pressing ourselves up against it as the dog continues barking at us.

"Carlisle!" Esme shrills out, "come get the damn puppy!"

Puppy? That looks more like a fucking bear or something.

Suddenly Carlisle appears and the next few moments are a blur as they fight to transfer control of the black dog…eventually Carlisle is able to get the dog to sit still between them, panting away like he just ran a marathon.

Edward and I both just watch speechless, afraid to move in case it might attack.

When I finally look away from the dog, I take in Esme and Carlisle's appearance – they look…different. Esme looks downright sloppy compared to her usual business attire; she sports a pink velour sweatsuit a'la Jennifer Lopez from back in the P. Diddy days. Her hair is in a messy ponytail and her face is void of makeup save for some smudged mascara. Has she been crying?

Carlisle looks his normal self, in a pair of navy slacks and a light blue polo shirt. His eyes are trained sideways on his wife, his expression almost weary.

I chance a look at Edward, who looks just as confused as I am as we take in the scene before us.

"Mom? Dad? When did you get a dog?" he asks.

Esme smiles and puts her hands on her hips. The smile is odd…not a happy one, but almost a vindictive one. Is she drunk?

"This is Lady Boom Boom. She's a Newfoundland puppy. We rescued her from the shelter last week. Her name was just Boom Boom, but that sounds a bit too trashy, so I added the Lady to it." She reaches over and pats the dog's head affectionately.

"_You _rescued the damn thing. _I _had nothing to do with it," Carlisle bites out, rolling his eyes.

"You'll have to forgive your father…he's a little bit jealous of the puppy," Esme retorts, pursing her lips and pushing some stray auburn hairs off of her forehead. Her pretty green eyes are slightly red-rimmed.

Are they fighting? This is new.

Edward simply stares at the dog, his head leaning to one side as if he's trying to figure out a puzzle. Esme and Carlisle are glaring at each other sideways.

"Um, well, congratulations I guess?" I say awkwardly, trying to break the tension and silence.

Strangely, all heads in the room turn to me at once and I feel like I'm in one of those dreams where I show up at church in my underwear or something.

What the fuck is going on here?

"Well, I hope you guys don't mind, but I fired our cook this morning," Esme says, earning a snort of contention from Carlisle and a subsequent glare from Esme, "so we're having pizza for dinner."

Pizza? The last time I ate here, we had a full multi-course dinner full of hoity-toity things I can't even begin to pronounce and frankly don't remember…I do remember scarfing down a turkey sandwich once I got home because I was still starving after eating something like ten courses with one bite each.

And, wait, she fired the cook?

What the hell?

As Esme spins on her heel and heads toward the kitchen, Lady Boom Boom and Carlisle follow her dutifully, leaving Edward and I standing against the door in a cloud of confusion.

A few things are swimming through my head…neither Esme nor Carlisle actually greeted us, which is odd given the fact that they are both usually the elaborate double-cheek-kiss type of people; _and_ they are definitely fighting about something.

Oh, and I'm fucking allergic to dogs. Almost as soon as I remember this important fact, I can feel my nasal cavity reacting.

Edward sighs and pushes off the wall, grabbing my hand to pull me along.

"I guess we should go find them to see what the hell is going on," he mumbles, his mouth set in a grimace.

"Edward?"

I pull back, stopping him.

"Uh, I'm allergic to dogs," I declare, afraid to move any further into Lady Boom Boom's territory. Ugh, my ankles start to feel itchy as I say it.

"Oh! I thought you were allergic to cats?" he replies, looking genuinely concerned.

"Well, I guess you could say I'm allergic to most furry animals. Mainly cats, dogs, horses and guinea pigs." I clear my throat, embarrassed.

His lips quirk up.

"Guinea pigs?" he asks, fighting a grin.

"Yeah, long story. A friend had one growing up. I played with it once and then had to go to the ER for a shot of Benadryl in the ass," I say, switching weight between feet nervously. Great, now I'm rambling about guinea pigs and my ass…nice.

"Should we go? I don't mind if you want to leave. I don't want you to get sick."

He looks so sweet and sincere and as much as I want to take him up on his offer, I just can't. Obviously something is going on here, so I'm determined to sniffle my way through it.

I shake my head.

"I should be ok. Let's at least stay long enough to talk to your parents."

"Well, if you get uncomfortable or feel like you need to leave, all you have to do is say the word and we'll leave, ok?" he asks, kissing my forehead quickly and again tugging at my hand.

We find his parents in their informal dining room, a couple of pizza boxes on the table and a bottle of some kind of white wine chilling in a silver bucket of ice. The long, ornate oak table is set in their normal dinner china, an odd contradiction to the food set in cardboard.

Esme smiles again and gestures for us to sit down.

As I sit, still sensing the tension in the air, Lady Boom Boom saunters over to me, drool dripping from her open mouth. I close my eyes, leaning as far as possible away from her and trying not to breathe in. The urge to gag is overwhelming as her hot, moist breath fans across my face. I can practically feel the pet dander invading my lungs.

Edward sits next to me and flaps his hands at the dog as if to shoo it away.

"Mom, Bella's allergic to dogs. Can't we put it outside or something?"

"Oh, I didn't know you were allergic! Come here, Lady Boom Boom, come here, sweetheart!" Esme talks to the dog in some kind of baby voice that makes my ears burn in annoyance.

The dog surprisingly obliges, padding over and sitting next to her mistress.

Carlisle is seated beside Esme, looking a bit unimpressed and bored as he watches his wife pat the dog's fluffy head.

The next several moments are filled with grabbing slices of pizza, filling wine glasses, and very little talk.

"So, Edward, how's business been?" Carlisle asks, breaking the awkward silence.

Edward looks like he wants to be anywhere but here, as he swallows a bite of deep dish pizza before answering.

"Well, same as usual I guess. We're looking at acquiring some data centers in Colorado, hoping to expand further East over the next year or two."

Carlisle nods approvingly at his son.

"How are things at the hospital? Are you still working on that funding to expand the cardiology department?" Edward asks, taking a sip of wine.

Ugh…this small talk feels so torturous. I focus on my pizza, which is actually quite good. I don't recognize the name on the box…Macelli's, it reads…I make a mental note of it so I can order from there next time.

I focus on breathing as I feel the skin on my bare legs start to itch. I want to slap myself for not keeping the fucking beige slacks on. The last thing I want is hives all over my damn legs. At least they will match my dress, I think with a mental snort.

My nose starts to run and my throat feels itchy…I try to discreetly wipe at it with my napkin.

Edward clears his throat, thankfully distracting me from thinking about dog hair and itchiness.

"So, what did you guys want to talk to us about?" Edward asks, eyes flitting between his parents, who seem to be avoiding eye contact.

With an annoyed sniff, Esme looks up and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Well, I just thought you might like to know your father is a cheating bastard," she says before grasping her glass and gulping the rest of her wine down in a few quick swallows.

Carlisle slams his palm down on the table and stands abruptly, causing Lady Boom Boom to bark and growl at him.

"Jesus, Esme! What the hell is wrong with you?" he bellows out. Esme merely purses her lips and pours another glass in response.

"And anyway, we're getting divorced. I didn't want to tell you over the phone," she says, again followed by downing an entire glass of alcohol with one hand, while scratching Lady Boom Boom's ears with the other. The dog turns to her and sloppily licks up the length of her forearm, causing Esme to giggle like complete loon.

What. The. Fuck?

Edward and I simply stare from our side of the table, mouths dropped open as the scene unfolds.

"Are you out of your mind, Esme? We _talked _about this. You said you invited them here to meet the fucking dog!" Carlisle's gestures to us before running his hands through his blond hair furiously. Even amidst the chaos, I find a brief moment of amusement at the gesture that I've seen Edward perform countless times when he's frustrated.

"Well, your son has a right to know, don't you think?" she says, grinning maniacally.

Fuck, my eyes are starting to itch. I can feel them pooling with moisture. My hands move to rub them, but I remember to stop myself, knowing that only makes it worse.

"Edward, I think you and Bella should leave. Obviously—" Carlisle looks pointedly at his wife, who merely glares back, "—your mother and I need to talk privately."

Yes! I think that's exactly what we should do. Before either of us can move to stand, Esme pipes in.

"Oh, I don't think so. I invited them here for dinner and that's exactly what we are going to do. We're going to finish eating, then we'll have dessert, then we'll talk. Now sit down and eat," she bites out, fixing him with an ice-cold stare that makes me want to sink back in my seat in fear.

"For the love of God..." he mumbles, trailing off as he turns and leaves the room.

I look at Edward, feeling horrible that all of this is happening. He can't be handling this well. He's staring off in the direction his father just left, stone-faced and pale.

"So," Esme begins, cutting into her pizza with a knife and fork. "Have you guys given any more thought to giving me some grandbabies?"

Edward's head whips around to face her.

"Are you serious?" he asks her incredulously.

"Of course! You aren't getting any younger. I hate to break it to you, Bella, honey, but in another couple of years, pregnancy will be much more complicated." She takes a bite and chews thoughtfully, her green eyes wide and watching us intently.

I have no words; all I can do is stare back at her. How can she possibly be asking this? She must be drunk…that's the only plausible explanation. She's acting like she has multiple personalities or something. All of her anger seems to have dissipated as she eats away happily.

Suddenly, Carlisle reappears carrying a small glass clinking with ice in one hand and a bottle of something in the other.

He rolls his eyes at Esme and flops back down in his previously vacated seat. He holds the bottle up and nods toward Edward.

"Scotch?" he asks as he unscrews the cap and pours a generous amount in his glass.

My fucking eyes are burning. God, I want to rub them so bad! My nose is simultaneously stuffed and runny. I feel like my legs are on fire.

I look over at Edward, willing him to stand up so we can just leave. It seems so obvious what's happening here…they are having issues and Esme invited us here because she wants witnesses. She wants to turn us against Carlisle in whatever's going on. She called him a cheating bastard…could she be serious? I look at Carlisle, who's chugging away at his drink…I just can't imagine him cheating on her. I don't know them well enough, but it seems like he wouldn't be willing to put his marriage in jeopardy. Not only because he loves her—at least he's always appeared to love her—but _cheating_ and _divorce_ just seem like things that would ruin his standing in society. Why would he risk his reputation?

Edward lets out a massive, frustrated sigh and rakes his hand through his hair. He looks exhausted. This can't be easy on him, that's for sure.

"Will one of you please tell me what the hell is going on? _Calmly_?" he asks desperately as he looks between them.

They both remain silent.

This is so weird.

This is also the moment I give in and start rubbing frantically at my watering eyes. Oh, the relief is almost instantaneous…like scratching a mosquito bite…it feels soooo good, but then it hurts so bad afterward. I rub and rub for several seconds oblivious to anything around me.

When I pull my hands away, I look down and see the tracks of black on my fingertips.

Great. Just fucking great. I forgot about the damn mascara. Luckily, Esme and Carlisle are acting like such idiots, I don't even feel embarrassed that I probably have black shit all over my face.

Somehow through my haze, I hear Esme directing us all to the sitting room.

"Are you alright?" Edward whispers in my ear.

When I look up at him, he looks horrified. Oh shit, do I really look that bad?

"Baby, your eyes are all swollen. We should leave." He stands up and helps me to my feet.

God, I wish my nose would stop running.

I shake my head frantically.

"No, Edward, you go and talk to them. I'll just go to the restroom and wash my face. I'll be fine." I can hear the wheezing in my voice. I try to smile at him, but he doesn't look convinced.

Reluctantly, he nods. "Just a few more minutes, ok? Then we'll go."

As he heads off in search of his parents, I practically sprint to the closest bathroom, where I frantically splash cold water on my face. I dig through the cabinet for a washcloth to wash my face. Looking in the mirror, I'm completely horrified at what I see. My face is covered in red splotches and my eyes are swollen. Jesus, I look awful.

I spend a few minutes trying to compose myself while removing the black mascara smudges from my face, taking deep breaths and willing my body to calm the fuck down before I end up in the fucking ER again.

Why, oh why did they have to get a dog? While I should be out there supporting Edward through whatever the fuck is going on with his parents, I'm in here looking like a damn leper.

With an annoyed huff, I make my way back to their sitting room where an obviously tense situation is already in progress.

"Dad, is this true?" Edward growls out, his face twisted in shock and horror.

"Of _course _it's not true, Edward. For the love of God, do you honestly think I would do that?" Carlisle belts out, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms like a petulant child. He's leaning against a wall across from the sofa where his wife sits, his feet are crossed at the ankles in a pose that looks entirely too casual to match his words.

"Don't even try to deny it! I found the letters, you lying bastard! Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to believe _nothing _happened between you two?" Esme hisses out, ferociously batting away stray tears that are escaping her furious eyes.

I walk in quietly and sit next to Edward on the loveseat near the large arched windows overlooking their backyard, which is more like a sprawling park, thoroughly wishing I hadn't missed the first part of this conversation. What letters? Did Carlisle cheat on Esme? Holy shit!

"Esme, for the last fucking time, those letters were from ten years ago from a crazy intern with a harmless crush! Nothing happened! I didn't even know I still had them in that damn box." Carlisle's voice is harsh, almost violent.

Edward's hands are balled up in fists on his thighs, his back erect and stiff.

Esme, normally the epitome of society's elite, is sloppily perched at the edge of the sofa. Lady Boom Boom, in all her enormous glory, is parked dutifully in front of her, tongue lazily hanging out of her giant mouth as she pants away in Esme's face.

Between sniffles, she grabs Lady Boom Boom's face and in her sweetest, baby-talking voice, starts babbling at the poor dog.

"Carlisle's a son of a bitch…Yes he is, yes he is," she says, her once furious eyes now scrunched up playfully.

Oh, fuck. What the hell is wrong with this woman? Get a few glasses of wine in her and she turns into a complete psycho.

And I thought I was crazy.

Somehow, through the watery slits of my now near-swollen shut eyes, I can see Carlisle shoot Esme a murderous glare before downing the last of his Scotch in one swift swallow.

I chance a glance at Edward and my heart breaks as I see him trying to process everything. For once, neither of us is the enemy in the room – this time we're fighting on the same side – his parents are clearly the antagonists, both completely insane and pretty much drunk off their asses.

Carlisle turns suddenly, his face wild, his pose no longer casual as his eyes narrow in on Edward, who is still seated at my side in shock.

"Edward, do yourself a favor, son, and save yourself while you still can. These fucking women are all the same! They sit here in the mansions _we_ provide for them, spending the money _we_ earn, so bored out of their _fucking_ Vicodin-ridden minds with their perfect fucking lives that all they can do is concoct _ridiculous_ stories in order to give them something new to gossip about with their _bitch_ friends."

Esme, Edward, and I simultaneously gasp, the sound is loud and obtrusive in the otherwise quiet room. Even Lady Boom Boom has sucked her floppy tongue back up in her huge mouth and is staring in Carlisle's direction.

The silence drags on for several moments. Silently, I'm hoping either Esme or Edward will stand up and fucking deck him. How can he talk about his wife this way? It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up and realize that he is also insulting _me. _

Without any warning, I sneeze, all loud and snotty and manly, effectively ending the silent spell following Carlisle's fucked up speech.

Once again calm and seemingly collected, Carlisle takes one more gulp of his Scotch and tosses his glass carelessly off to the side and it shatters into pieces when it impacts with their shiny, mahogany floors before he stalks out of the room.

Esme returns to patting Lady Boom Boom's enormous head and stares off in the direction Carlisle has walked. Her face is emotionless, a stark contrast to the whiplash of manic mood swings from earlier.

"Edward, Bella, I think you should go now. Thank you for coming." Her voice is flat, sad, and frankly a bit scary.

Edward, who has yet to move or say anything, simply stands, pulling me with him.

"Goodbye, mother," he says in a hoarse, whisper of a voice, before pulling me quickly through the house and out the door.

I stumble along behind him, using a tissue I've snatched from a side table to dab at my running nose, whilst my eyes are still burning and watery. So many thoughts are running through my head…I can't even isolate one to solely focus on:

What the fuck just happened?

Should we really be leaving Esme in this state? She wouldn't do anything…_dangerous…_like hurt herself or something….right? Her lifeless eyes and flat voice before we left were so…._haunting. _And why the reference to Vicodin? Is Esme on painkillers or, worse, addicted to them?

And on the note of drugs, do we have any Benadryl at home? I really don't want to have to ask Edward to stop on the way home and I _really_ don't want to go the ER for a shot in the ass.

The silence stretches as Edward starts the car, the engine purring softly to life.

Oh. My. God.

I'm so out of my element here. I don't know how to comfort him. I don't even know if _wants _to be comforted.

His face is like stone and I'm so afraid to say anything. And I'm still a bit pissed actually…how _dare_ Carlisle say such awful things?

Who knew Carlisle and Esme were such fucking lunatics?

I clear my throat and take in a wheezy breath.

"Edward? Are you alright?" I ask timidly. My voice is so raspy I wince at the awful sound.

All at once, his posture melts from rigid to slumped, his back from tense to hunched over the steering wheel in a defeated pose. He blows out a breath, his lips fluttering a bit from the force of air.

"No, no I'm not," he says. His voice is quiet and defeated.

This is not good. I can't imagine what he must be thinking. I can't even begin to relate. I'm not close with my mom and dad…if the situation were reversed, I would probably just roll my eyes and chock it up to yet another stupid situation Charlie and Renee had gotten themselves into. Hell, I'd probably laugh the whole thing off and forget about it a day later.

But Carlisle and Esme are no Charlie and Renee and Edward certainly didn't grow up with parents who barely spoke to him. No, Carlisle and Esme had apparently expended a great deal of energy making sure Edward was perfect and knew the importance of appearances…and he's just watched them declare that their marriage appears to be a sham.

God, I wish this night had never happened. I feel like total shit…my head is throbbing and my body is fighting off a serious allergic reaction and if I don't take a serious dose of antihistamines really fucking quickly, bad shit is going to happen.

As I open my mouth to reply—maybe offer my love and support or some kind of wise statement or _something_ useful—all I can offer at the moment is another string of sneezing and snorting. Cute.

Edward looks over at me, his face still emotionless and says simply and calmly, "Let's go home."

And as I'm blowing my nose for the hundredth time tonight, he puts the car into gear and drives like a maniac down the winding driveway and into the dark.

_To be continued…._


End file.
